Dead To My World
by afalcone10
Summary: What if Hallow cursed Eric so that he lost his memory and ended up meeting Sookie while running down Hummingbird Road…but she had never met him or Bill or any other vampire before? Rated M for later chapters. Slightly AU, more like Alternate Timeline.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**_**Dead to the World**_**: What if Hallow cursed Eric so that he lost his memory and ended up meeting Sookie while running down Hummingbird Road…but she had never met him or Bill or any other vampire before? Rated M for later chapters.**

**My beta, chiisai-kitty, went over this like the doll she is, but I put in some stuff afterwards, so if you see anything it's mine.**

**Unfortunately, these characters are not mine. I just like playing mind-tricks on them.**

…

The New Year's Eve party at Merlotte's Bar & Grille was finally, finally over, and I was better for it. Working the night shift as a waitress was always tiring for both me and my Nikes, but tonight was extra demanding. Most of the other waitresses and cooks had better things to do on New Year's Eve than deal with drunken rednecks or fetch ketchup bottles, but I wasn't one of them. I needed the money more than a midnight kiss, and apparently Terry, Arlene, and Holly felt the same way.

Plus, I didn't have anywhere else to go, and the thought of me cooking a frozen pizza and watching the ball drop was too much, especially since it was a longstanding tradition I used to share with my Gran, who died of a massive heart attack four months ago. My only living family member was my older brother Jason, whose blonde hair and blue eyes pretty much ensured that he'd never have to spend any night alone, let alone New Year's Eve. I had the same hair and eye color as him, but the boys didn't come running after me like the girls did with Jason. They, along with everyone else in this almost ghost town of Bon Temps, Louisiana, thought I was crazy. And they were probably right.

I'm a telepath. Yep, I can hear what most people think, with the exception of being a few random strangers and my boss, Sam Merlotte. For as long as I can remember, I've always been able to listen in on people's thoughts, for better or mostly for worse. The few dates that I've been on always ended with me yelling at the guy and his wannabe porno thoughts of me.

Hence my being alone on New Years Eve.

Usually I'm pretty good at throwing up mental shields that block out the thoughts, but tonight there were so many people—and their lewd thoughts about celebrating—and so much to do that I was worn out, both physically and mentally.

Thankfully, it was now about three in the morning, and most people had gone home. All of the employees were still here; Terry Bellefleur, the sometime cook and full-time Iraq war veteran with post-traumatic stress disorder, was cleaning the pots and pans in the kitchen, and Arlene and Holly, the two other waitresses, were helping me sweep up confetti and clean the tables. Sam, the owner of the restaurant, was in his office counting up tonight's grand total, and pretty soon Kenya, a local police officer, would arrive to escort him to the bank.

"What are your hopes for the New Year, girls?" Holly asked as she finished spraying the tables with disinfectant. The blonde was relatively new, coming here from somewhere in Georgia because her boyfriend got a job in the nearby town. She was quiet and her thoughts were nice and mostly about her boyfriend or her best friend, Danielle. That meant a lot for me; one of the downsides of being a telepath is knowing that people aren't always who they seem to be.

"Lordy, I just want to find Mr. Right. And if I lost ten pounds, I wouldn't complain either," Arlene sighed. I chuckled, because Arlene's been saying that for as long as I've known her, which is about five years now. She says she's thirty-six, but I don't know if that's true; no matter how long she's been looking for her Mr. Right, she's certainly found plenty of Mr. Wrongs in her life. She stopped sweeping for a second to tuck her flaming red hair behind her ears. "What about you, Sookie?"

"Oh, I don't know. Some peace and quiet would be nice … and if I lost ten pounds, I wouldn't complain either," I replied with a smile; Arlene and Holly laughed appreciatively.

"What are y'all laughing at? And more importantly, what are y'all still doing here so late?" Sam asked as he walked into the room, his Paul Newman-blue eyes glittering and a smile stretched across his face. Must have been a seriously good haul tonight.

"Impressing the boss and waiting for him to give me my hard-earned money," Arlene answered, reaching out for the envelope with her name written on it that Sam was holding in his hands. "Thanks, Sam," she said as she gave him a quick hug, her artificial red hair clashing violently with Sam's natural gold-red curls. Holly walked over and repeated the process, taking her envelope and hugging Sam as well. Then the two girls went out to the employee room, already chattering with how they were going to celebrate the rest of the night and not thinking twice about leaving me behind with Sam.

He smiled apologetically at me and said, "Here you go, Sookie. You earned it, and you must be tired." I took my envelope and wrapped my arms around his neck, affectionately patting his flannel plaid shirt-covered back.

"Interrupting something?" Kenya called out as she walked through the door.

"Nah, Kenya, just a goodbye hug, that's all. Sookie, you're good to go home now, thanks for all your help tonight. Happy New Year," Sam said as he let go of me. I nodded, and after a quick goodbye to both of them I briskly walked to the backroom to grab my purse and my winter coat. I was so happy to be leaving and going home that I practically skipped over to my car in the parking lot, an old yellow Datsun that I'd been driving since high school.

All night long I had been dreaming of washing my face, pulling on my warmest nightgown, and going to bed, and now it finally seemed like my wish would come true. I even smiled as I turned off of Hummingbird Road to go out to my place, which is about three miles southeast of Merlotte's. Now I was able to relax mentally, because the only thoughts pestering me were my own.

That normally would have been very welcome, but it wasn't when I saw the figure of a man running down the road outlined in the glare of my headlights. Not only could I see not him, but I couldn't _hear_him, and that almost worried me more. A strange man, whose thoughts I couldn't hear and whose face I couldn't see, was running down the middle of a dirt road on New Year's Eve—it didn't get any weirder than that.

I slowed down, trying to figure out a course of action. I was a single woman whose only possible means of defense was an old can of mace stashed in my glove compartment. On the other hand, I couldn't let someone suffer without trying to help.

'_Screw it,'_ I thought, _'This is Bon Temps, where the last murder occurred because of a duel in an old saloon like a hundred years ago.'_ But just to be safe, I reached over and grabbed the pepper spray.

As I lowered the window, I noticed that he was tall, blonde, and only wearing a pair of jeans without a shirt on his back or a pair of shoes on his feet. He glanced at me for a second and continued running even faster.

"Can I help you?" I called out as I got out of the car. He turned and I gasped. I was shocked into not moving or talking or thinking. Not because of his stunning face or chiseled body—he had fangs. He had fangs and they were sharp and pointy and looked very capable of killing me. This wasn't a man, this was a vampire—the first vampire I had ever met since they "came out of the coffin" and revealed themselves a little less than a year ago—and he looked like he was going to kill me. He hissed and I could see that his outstretched hands were tense, like he was going to attack me any second.

"Stay back, woman," he warned me in a low, hoarse voice. "Stay back if you know what's good for you."

…

**You know what to do: review, review, review! Would you be interested in reading more? Let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi everyone! I was so awed by your response to the first chapter – I wasn't by a computer these past couple days (which was a really sick form of torture, to be honest) and I was uber surprised to see that many fanfiction-sent emails in my inbox! And I saw the last chapter as more as a baby chapter, really. But anyways, thank you so much! Would it be greedy if I said keep it coming? Hahaha :)**

**Please give a big cyber round of applause to chiisai-kitty for being my Best Beta Buddy Forever (BBBF, natch). I must admit, I did go through this chapter once more, so if there are any errors they are afalcone10-flavored. Sorry!**

**I do not own these characters, but I can say that I am the proud owner of a duct-tape covered remote that I had to tape up because I threw it at the ground when Anna Paquin didn't win at the Golden Globes. Hah, beat THAT Charlaine Harris!**

***And just a little heads up, this is an alternate timeline story, so that being said I am rearranging some details to make the story work. You'll see what I mean. Just store that in a mental file folder in your brains somewhere. And to clarify, this is a year after the vampires officially came out of the coffin; in**_**Dead Until Dark/True Blood**_**(can't remember which and don't have the oomph to look it up, sorry) it was two years. Not that much is really known about vampires just yet, but the night is still young (corny? you betcha haha). And Bill Compton hasn't moved into the old Compton house yet.**

…

He moved his head, and his face was illuminated by my car's lights. It was then that I suddenly realized that he looked familiar to me. I had seen this man—vampire—before, somehow, somewhere. _'Think, Sookie, think! If you remember him, if you remember his name, you could be safe. You could still be alive tomorrow._'

"Eric!" I shouted, relieved that I was able to put a name to the handsome face. I hadn't officially met him, but my fellow waitress Dawn had—that's where I remembered him from, Dawn's thoughts. She had gone over to the new vampire bar, Fangtasia, over in Shreveport a few months after it opened. In her memory, Eric had been sitting on an ornate gold throne in the middle of the bar, wearing a tight black t-shirt and leather pants. His hair was pulled back into a long braid then, whereas now it was flowing down his back and looking like it hadn't been brushed in a long time.

I still knew without a doubt that he was the same man that Dawn had met.

She had approached the throne, wanting to see if sex with a vampire was as good as everyone said it was. He had taken her into his office and had sex with her on his desk; she had called his name out as he bit her neck and drank her blood. She had worn a scarf to work the next day and told Lafayette, the short order cook at Merlotte's and the resident sex guru, that it was the best she ever had.

"You know me? Who am I?" He moved closer to where I was frozen in place.

"Kind of. You're Eric, and you work at Fangtasia, that bar over in Shreveport? Right?"

"How do you kind of know me?" Shit, he just asked the question I really didn't want him to ask.

"I don't really know you, per se, but my friend Dawn does, Dawn Green? You, um, had sex with her in your office?"

"I don't know," he replied, slowly retracting his fangs and kind of straightening up from his predatory crouch.

Well, that threw me for a loop. "You don't know if you're Eric? Or you don't know if you had sex with Dawn Green in your office?"

"I don't know who I am."

"What are you doing here, running down this random road at three in the morning? Are you in trouble?" I asked, thinking that maybe he'd have the answer for those questions.

"I don't know that, either," he said simply, looking up at me and shocking me with the intensity of his bright blue eyes.

"Okay … I'm sensing a theme here. You don't remember anything? For real?"

"For real." He took another step closer, and now that I kind of was sure that he wasn't going to bite my neck and kill me at any given second, I took the time to give him an once-over.

His muscular, chiseled body seemed hard and strong, and just looking at his bare white chest made me shiver—because he looked so cold, of course. His jeans were muddy and frayed on the bottom, and his bare feet were bleeding from running on the road. But, amazingly, what struck me most was his countenance; he had the body of a man but the expression of a scared little boy.

"You know you're a vampire, right?"

"Yes," he answered, looking surprised that I knew that. He glanced sideways at me and added definitively, "And you are not."

"No, I'm a very scared human. Are you going to kill me?"

He stared at me before replying, "No. I won't hurt you." And although my brain helpfully pointed out that he probably had said that phrase hundreds of times before he killed someone, I still believed him. "You're the only person I know. You're the only person who knows who I am. I can't lose you yet." _Ah, yes, there's the vampire_.

"I'm guessing you don't know anyone who can come pick you up?" I said weakly after a pause, in an attempt to make him look less sad. He laughed softly and I felt a warmth flood my body.

"You would be correct," he answered, a ghost of a grin creeping onto his face. I smiled as well.

"And you don't have any place to go either?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

He shook his head no.

Everything I knew about vampires and personal safety was begging me to jump into my car and drive as fast as I could back home, but, strangely enough, I wanted to be near Eric, wanted to make sure he was okay, wanted to help him.

Plus, he knew Dawn. She trusted him enough to have sex with him and let him bite her within an hour of meeting him. And she was alive and well the last time I saw her, which was yesterday afternoon at work. I could call her and have her take him home with her, since they were already acquainted. She could take him off my hands and help him. She already seemed to know more about the vampire world than I did, judging from her memories.

"I can … I can take you home. With me. You can warm up there, maybe sleep in the graveyard next to my house. I read somewhere that vampires can rest in the dirt during the day. I live about a half a mile away from here. That's why I was driving down this road. I can call Dawn, she knows you, and she can help you out," I rambled, loosening my grip on the mace.

"You trust me? You must be insane." He was right, of course. But he didn't say no. He didn't say no.

"Or I can leave you here. Alone. In the middle of the road, in the middle of the night, without knowing who you are or why you're here or, hell, what two plus two equals," I supplied.

He didn't say anything, just observed me blankly. Fine, well, it was his choice, and I was being stupid offering a complete stranger—and a vampire stranger at that—a place to stay anyways. I was cold, tired, and in no mood to be standing in the middle of the road arguing with a vampire when I could be lying in my bed all by myself.

I backed up until I grasped the handle on my car door and opened it quietly, never once looking anywhere except Eric's heartbreakingly stoic face. He made no movement as I sat in the car and turned it on, but when I reached out to close the door he called out hesitatingly, "You do know who I am?"

"Yes," I snapped back, too tired and impatient to care about being polite. I hadn't gotten over impulsively asking him to stay at my house, for whatever reason, and I wasn't too happy with myself, let alone the guy I had reached out to only to be turned down. "Now, are you coming or what? It's your choice, but if you could choose fast that'd be real nice. I'm freezing, and I actually sleep at night, unlike you. And I don't have forever to wait for your answer."

He blinked, and the next second he was opening my passenger side door and sliding in. I just stared at him, trying to figure out if he flew into my car or if he used some weird vampire speed.

After a couple seconds I blinked and patted around in the backseat for an old quilt I kept there to sit on during football games; it was not a very nice-looking blanket but I figured it would serve its purpose. Once I found what I was looking for, I threw it on Eric's lap. He looked down and then back at me with a question in his eyes.

"I know you probably can't feel the cold because you're a vampire and stuff, but just humor me, okay? I feel freezing just looking at you," I muttered as I blasted the heat and started driving down the road, as I was doing before I got myself into this mess. He grinned then, and I did too, glad to see him not looking terrified. From the corner of my eye I could tell he was a beautiful man, even more so when he smiled.

He didn't say another word for the rest of the car ride, so I didn't either. I reflected that when I was driving before, I was struggling to stay awake; now I was trying not have a heart attack.

"Well, here we are," I said unnecessarily as I pulled into my driveway. I was glad I had forgotten to turn my porch lights off, or else we would have been sitting in complete darkness. I got out of the car but he remained where he was, alternating between staring at me and staring at my house; he seemed nervous just to walk the ten yards into the old farmhouse.

"Oh come on, I don't bite," I said exasperatedly. He smiled faintly and got out and walked to the front porch where I was currently opening the back door. Looking at Eric stepping on the uneven surface and the pebbles and rocks with bare feet made me wince, even though he seemed unaffected by it.

I walked in my house and flicked on the light, hanging up my keys on the hook on the wall and tossing my purse onto the kitchen table. I shrugged out of my jacket and it was then that I noticed that he was still on the back porch.

"You have to invite me in," he said by way of explanation, scrutinizing the parts of the interior of my house that he could see. "Vampires have to be invited into a house in order to enter it."

"Well, come in then. Hey, why is it that you don't remember who you are or what you're doing but you do know that you have to be invited into a home?"

He scuttled in after me, still wrapped in the quilt. "I don't know," he muttered mournfully, as if he was as tired of saying those three words as I was of hearing them. Even though I didn't know him well, I would have guessed that he was the kind of man who didn't like not knowing the answers.

In the harsh kitchen light I saw that his bare feet were bleeding more than I had thought. "Oh, look at your feet!" I cried as I grabbed a pan out from the cabinet and started running hot water.

"It's nothing," he said confidently, staring down at the cuts and gashes as if they were amusing him.

"Nonsense, the water's already going and there's nothing you can do about it. Now, you can lift your jeans up or just take them off, because I'm going to wash your feet for you."

He shimmied out of his jeans without a moment's hesitation, and I quickly turned around and walked into the laundry room to put his jeans in the washer and turn the machine on. Even so I had seen that Eric was wearing over-the-top red bikini style underwear that whose stretchy quality was definitely being tested. _Huh, definitely didn't see that coming. Never would have guessed he was that kind of guy._

When I entered the kitchen, I saw that Eric had poured the water in the pan and was now sitting in a chair with his feet firmly planted in the hot water and the quilt wrapped around his body. He was using paper towels to clean his feet and couldn't understand why the paper towels were wilting uselessly in his hand. It was actually pretty funny in a pathetic kind of way, and I bit back a laugh. Hey, it's not like he knew any better.

"Here, let me do that," I said soothingly, and he shot me a grateful look before accurately throwing the wad of wet paper towels into the garbage bin all the way across the room in a shot that I would never have been able to make.

I got a clean hand towel and some liquid soap from underneath the sink and got to work scrubbing his feet. He groaned softly when I started massaging them. I felt a spasm of sexual tension in the room before tossing it aside and chalking it up to my nerves, which were already shot before I invited a strange amnesiac vampire into my house. I took my time, mostly because I didn't know what else to say.

He broke the silence by quietly murmuring "You were out in the night, all by yourself. Why is that?"

"I was coming home from work, as you can see by my uniform," I replied, pleasantly surprised that he was the one asking the questions now. I gestured to my clothing; I was wearing the winter uniform for Merlotte's, black pants and a long-sleeved white shirt with "Merlotte's Bar" embroidered over the left breast.

"Women should not be alone this late at night, especially if they are working," he said matter-of-factly.

"Well, this woman does."

"Why?"

"I need the money," I responded simply, wiping my hands on my pants before I reached into my pocket to remove the envelope I had stuffed into my pocket and the Ziploc baggie I had used to put my tip money in. As much as I wanted to count the bills and coins, I forced myself not to in front of my guest, who also happened to be a stranger. "I got this house to maintain, my car is old, and I have taxes and insurance to pay."

He didn't say anything for some time, and I blushed thinking I had poor-mouthed too much.

"Is there no man in your family?" he asked finally.

"No, no one lives here but me." _Shit, why did you just say that? Not good, Sookie. NOT GOOD._

"What I meant was, isn't there a man who can provide for you?"

"What? I can take care of myself, and I'm doing pretty good on my own. I don't need my brother to put food on my table and a roof over my head," I replied, trying to imagine telling Jason that he needed to support me for the rest of my life because I was a woman and shouldn't work outside the home. Uh, yeah, I'll have to remember that for April Fool's Day.

"You have a brother," he said, making it a statement instead of a question.

"Yes, my older brother Jason," I confirmed as I poured more hot water into the pan. I really didn't need to, because some of the smaller cuts and bruises were healing right in front of my eyes, but I wanted to keep my hands busy while I tried to deal with this situation, which suddenly just got a lot weirder now that I knew he could heal himself. He still had some large cuts on his feet that hadn't closed up yet, and he winced as I gently wiped the dirt off with the washcloth.

"Your brother is older than you and yet he still permits you to work and travel alone late at night?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't he? I'm a grown woman. And he has his own life to deal with. I don't want him fiddling around in mine." Seriously, what was with the caveman act? Oh crap, what if he had been a caveman? Anything was possible, as I had been finding out ever since I left Merlotte's. If someone would have told me that tonight not only was I going to meet my first vampire, but I was going to invite him to my house, I would have thought he or she was drunk or simply over-served.

Thankfully he didn't press the subject, and I finished washing his feet in silence. _Silence_. I had been so focused on not dying tonight that I had forgotten one of the first things I had noticed – I couldn't _hear_ him. Maybe that's why I felt so relaxed around him, and wasn't completely freaking out about inviting an unknown vampire into my home.

Unfortunately, this would have been the perfect time to use my telepathy to figure out his true intentions and yet I couldn't. Was it because he was a vampire, or because he was amnesiac? No, amnesiacs still had thoughts, they just didn't have memories. I decided to experiment.

"Eric," I said, "what is your opinion of me?" I hated asking that, but it was my go-to question I used during dates with human guys to see what they really thought of me, to hear the difference between what they thought and what they said. In my experience, I usually asked this question when I was trying to decide if I should ditch the dude, and in most cases it was the last straw. It was the exact definition of a loaded question.

He was quiet for a moment and looked at something in the distance before turning his attention back to me and answering, "I do not know much about you, woman, but what I do know I like. I think you are brave because you took in a strange vampire off of the street and because you can survive by yourself without a male to provide for you. I think you are kind and I am glad that you found me tonight."

I tried my best to hear his thoughts, but there was just an empty void. I put my hands on his feet, as touching people sometimes makes it easier to hear them, and tried again.

Nothing.

He was peering down at me now, probably waiting for a response to his apparently heartfelt sentiment or an explanation as to why I was currently cradling his feet without washing them. I nodded and focused on easing the pan to the side and toweling his feet off until they damn near sparkled they were so clean and dry. My knees cracked when I stood up, and it just reminded me how much my back and feet hurt.

"I appreciate that, Eric. Listen, I think what I better do is call Dawn and leave her a message."

"The woman with whom I had sexual relations with?"

I nodded. "Yeah, she probably won't pick up at this hour, but it's worth a shot."

He stood up too, not bothering with the blanket, and I was reminded once again of how gorgeous he was. I had a walking, talking (but not breathing) beautiful marble statue—a beautiful, 6-foot-something white statue—in my kitchen.

"Do you trust her?" he asked, gazing intently at me. I hesitated, and when that moment passed I knew he wasn't going to let me call her now. In fact, he opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

"I won't say anything too specific, I promise. I'll just call and ask her to call me back in the morning or something. Okay?"

"Yes, that is satisfactory," he said, picking up the quilt and wrapping it around him again.

I grabbed my phone book and looked up her number, but when I called the answering machine picked up, one of those that just say the phone number and nothing personal. If I wasn't planning on telling Dawn all of the details before, I definitely wasn't going to be spilling my heart out now.

"Hi, Dawn, it's Sookie. I know you're probably busy tonight, but I have something I want to talk to you about, so if you could just call me back whenever you get this, that'd be great. Don't worry if it's a bad time or not. Okay then. Bye. Wait, it's Sookie, don't know if I said that. Well, hanging up now."

I walked over to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle, eagerly gulping down the cool water. Then I remembered that I didn't offer anything to my guest—not like I had anything for him to drink, except for my blood, and that so was not happening if I had a say in it.

"Um, I don't have any of that TrueBlood stuff. I think my boss might have some at the bar, or I bet there's a gas station open late, if you need one," I said meekly, mentally hitting myself on the head for being so inconsiderate.

"I will be fine, I think. I do not feel the need to feed right now. Thank you though," he said, apparently having not forgotten how to be polite.

I yawned, one so big I couldn't pretend it was a sigh or something. I blushed, and he smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry to keep you up at such a late hour."

"It's okay. Let me just go and wash my face with some cold water, and that should wake me up a bit."

He nodded, and I turned abruptly and walked up the stairs to my bathroom to do just that. I also brushed my teeth so I could have some more time to collect my thoughts. Then I changed into my favorite nightgown, a light blue flannel one with embroidered yellow daisies. I needed all the comfort I could get.

As I passed by Gran's old room, which I had only just been able to start cleaning since her death, I remembered that Jason usually kept some sweats here for when he stopped by for dinner after work and wanted to slip into something comfier than the dusty jeans and tee shirt he wore befitting his position as the leader of Renard Parish's construction crew. The last time Jason was here was when he helped me move some of Gran's stuff, and he had slept in her bed; I remembered that he had been wearing plaid pajama pants and a Bon Temps football sweatshirt and after I washed them I had placed them on the rocking chair in the corner.

I opened the door and Jason's clothes were right where I thought they would be. I scooped them up and headed for the stairs.

Eric had migrated over to the living room, where he was currently standing in front of the fireplace and looking at the family pictures sitting on the mantle. The quilt was still wrapped around him like the security blanket that it was; the green, blue, and orange squares stuck out in contrast with his white skin and long blonde hair. It truly was a hideous blanket, but I had to admit that it looked less ugly when wrapped around his body.

"Why do you have diamonds on your teeth?" he asked, pointing to my seventh-grade school picture.

I chortled and then threw my hand over my mouth, but he didn't look embarrassed or hurt, just expectant. "I had braces. They're little metal wires that get put on your teeth to make them straight," I answered when I gained control of myself.

"That sounds painful. Did it work?"

"You tell me," I said, grinning widely.

"You have a pretty smile," he said softly, surprising us both. I blushed, and the compliment hung unanswered in the air. It was the first time tonight he wasn't asking questions or answering them.

"Did your brother have these braces as well?" He had moved onto a new photo, one of me and Jason with our parents before they died in a freak accident during a flash flood. Jason was thirteen and I was ten. It had snowed that year, and school was officially closed even though it didn't snow enough to make a snowball, as Jason and I had soon found out. My parents stayed home from work that day to play with us, and my dad had set up the self-timer on the camera so we could have a family picture taken to commemorate the snowfall. I remembered he had said, "Say snow!" and that was the only time I actually ever said something like that while smiling for the camera.

"No, just me," I said, emerging from my sentimental flashback. Eric was now peering down at a picture at me all dolled up for my prom from my senior year of high school.

"I think it would be pretty funny to see a vampire with braces," he joked, turning to look at me with an unfamiliar spark in his eyes. We both sniggered.

"I wonder if they make them. Probably—it seems everyone's jumping in on the vampire bandwagon ever since you guys came out of the coffin."

"I wouldn't know," Eric deadpanned, and I laughed again. He did too, after a moment. I liked it better when he didn't appear so confused or serious.

I looked away, afraid he'd catch me gawking at him. "Here. These are my brother's clothes, they might fit you. You're a little bigger than he is, though, so I'm not making any promises," I said, holding them out to him. He accepted them gratefully, making contact with my fingers for the briefest of seconds.

"Thank you. You are giving me more and more reasons to be grateful for your existence," he said simply.

"No problem." _This guy knows how to give a compliment, that's for sure. And his mother, whenever she was alive, must have done a good job teaching him how to be polite, since he can't seem to remember how to do anything else._

Eric dropped the blanket and slipped on the clothing without comment or hesitance. That didn't stop me from politely averting my gaze as soon as I understood what he was doing. I thought I heard him chuckle softly, but I didn't trust myself to look and check.

I heard him step closer to me, and I flicked my eyes back to him. The sweatshirt was a little short, exposing the chiseled V and faint trail of blonde hair leading somewhere I definitely should not be looking at, especially because Jason's pajamas were extremely tight around that area.

I groaned a little but tried to twist it into a yawn.

"You are tired now. You are in need of sleep," he observed somewhat correctly while tugging on his sweatshirt, unknowingly drawing my willing eyes to his sculpted abs.

I didn't bother correcting him. Besides, I was really sleepy, but I didn't want to make my exit just yet, Not because I didn't trust him—strangely enough, I did—but because I didn't want to abandon him.

"I can dig a hole in the graveyard and reside there during the day," he said confidently, walking towards the front door.

"Eric," I cried out, and he stopped immediately at the sound of his name and whipped his head around. "You, uh, don't have to leave right now."

"I thought you were tired," he said, furrowing his brow.

"I am, but … you don't have to stand in the freezing cold just because I want to go to sleep. You can stay here until the sun comes up. You'll know when that is, right?

He thought for a moment, and then nodded. "I should be fine, I think."

I smiled but didn't say anything, and he didn't either. Suddenly, I had a thought, and walked over to the bookcase. Once I found the book I was looking for, I handed it to Eric. "Here, this should keep you busy. It's about vampires. It's pretty popular."

He stared down at the cover, so I did too. He looked confused, and I guessed it was because there was a picture of an apple on the cover of a supposed vampire book. "It's really about vampires," I promised, "There's even a series, with four books in total. See?" I turned and pulled out the other three, reaching around Eric to place them on the coffee table next to the couch.

He glanced at me, then shrugged as if to say, "Well, I've got nothing better to do." He strolled over to the couch and opened the book.

"Good night, Eric," I called out as I walked up the stairs. As soon as I said that I heard a swooshing noise, and Eric was suddenly right behind me. I yelped in surprise.

"Sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. I just wanted to ask you something," he explained apologetically. He shifted his weight on the stairs, eliciting a creek in response.

"Sure. What's up?" I sounded more cheerful and energetic than I felt.

"What is your name, woman?"

"Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse."

"Thank you, Sookie Stackhouse. I am indebted to you," he said seriously. Even though he was on lower steps we were about the same height, and I was eye-to-eye with his striking blues. I noticed that they were darker around the rim of the iris, the color reminding me of my favorite Crayola crayon color, cerulean. If I saw his eyes on anyone else but a vampire I would have guessed they were colored contacts, they were so beautiful.

"Your welcome. Um, good night then, Eric."

"Good night, Sookie."

He zoomed back to the couch and picked up the book.

I tucked myself in and tried to go to bed, but I couldn't sleep no matter how tired I was. "UGGH!" I groaned in frustration, pulling a pillow over my head after fifteen fruitless minutes of counting vampires had passed. My body was sleepy but my brain was wide awake.

"Sookie, are you alright?" Eric called from downstairs.

"Eric?" What the heck – he heard that?

"Yes?" Eric was leaning on my doorway. I sat up instantly, knocking the pillow to the floor in the process. My heart was pounding like it was trying to escape from my chest; he must have heard that too because he apologized again for surprising me.

"I'm just glad I didn't scream," I said, trying to brush it off.

"Is everything all right?" Eric questioned earnestly, folding his arms across his chest. Even from across the room I could see the now-familiar look of anxiousness plastered on his attractive face.

"Yes," I answered, and he nodded but didn't leave. I didn't ask him to.

"That author has obviously never met a vampire," he added conversationally, referring to the books like we had just been talking about them.

"Well, yeah, I think the first one was written before vampires officially came out."

He scoffed, "It probably contributed to the reason why we felt the need to reveal ourselves, to show the world that vampires aren't pansies that sparkle and don't have sex."

I laughed, but he looked so serious I stopped instantly.

"I could write a book on all of the inaccuracies she has committed. For example, vampires cannot impregnate humans, of that I am sure. Or else your Dawn might have called back immediately. And the author does not explain the details concerning the female's reproductive system. She gets impregnated the first time she has sex, so she must not be using any form of birth control, yet she is with the vampire for a long time before then and never once does the author describe what she smells like while menstruating," he said matter-of-factly, like it was perfectly normal for him to talk to a woman about a fictional character's menstrual cycle not more than an hour after meeting her acquaintance. Once again, I wondered how he was able to retain information about being a vampire but he couldn't remember his own name.

"It's not her fault, she didn't know vampires were real when she wrote the first book."

It was true; the novel had come out about four months before the vampires did, and the fortunate coincidence had propelled the book to the top of the bestseller's lists, much like how the stock of the synthetic blood drink, True Blood, had risen in value. The series instigated vampire frenzy in the media, and soon afterwards dozens of vampire-centric novels appeared on the bookshelves. There was a whole subgenre of art entirely dedicated to vampires now; they even had their own section in the bookstores and movie rental places. Broadway musicals and movies about vampires were insanely popular, and many vampires had earned a fortune writing autobiographies documenting their very long life. More colleges began offering night classes or courses in vampire mythology or science. Like I said before, associating with vampires or creating vampire-friendly products had proven to be incredibly lucrative—although I supposed that making anti-vampire items would be profitable too.

"But she did when she wrote the other three. I looked at their publishing dates," he said relentlessly.

"Wait, did you read all of them?" He nodded, like it was no big deal. "Seriously, you just read all four books in fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, and I did not enjoy a single second of it," he said solemnly.

"I can't wait to see your reaction to the movie," I teased.

He cringed. "There's a movie?"

"Two, actually. And they're going to make some more later."

He shook his head in disgust.

"Hey, Eric," I said timidly after a while.

"Yes?"

"Um, since you don't have anything else to do until sunlight comes, if you want you can just come in bed with me and we can talk for a while. I tried falling asleep before but I couldn't."

"Are you sure?" he asked, remaining where he was. I nodded.

"I'd like that very much," he said, taking exaggeratedly slow human steps to the bed. I snickered, and he bent over to pick up the pillow that had escaped. He offered it to me and I placed it on the side of the bed closest to Eric and patted it; he understood and slipped under the covers, his hair splashing over the pillow. Maybe it was just the darkness, but I would have guessed that our hair was the same hue.

Once he moved into a comfortable situation, he turned to face me and asked me my opinion on the books and vampires in general, and we talked about that for a while. He was even more beautiful close up, causing me to internally cringe while thinking about how I must have looked without taking a shower or even putting some Chapstick on after a long day at work. Good thing it was kind of dark…although I don't think I would have been surprised if he had freaky vampire night-goggle vision or something.

After I yawned three times in a row, Eric said he would feel guilty keeping me awake when my body didn't want me to be, so I rolled over; I hated turning away from him, but I always slept better on my left side. It didn't matter anyways—I think that as soon as I closed my eyes I fell asleep … but not before I imagined feeling a cold hand wrap itself around mine, as if to hold it for comfort.

…

**There you go. Now, when I was writing this, all I could think about (besides creating lines, of course, I'm not that good!) was whether or not I would stop for a strange male vampire on the side of the road like Sookie did. Then again, that'd have to mean that there are in fact strange male vampires in existence. Anyways, I'd like to think that I would … but I haven't exactly been in that situation, you know? ;)**

**Oh, and if anyone has,**_**please**_**PM me about it! Lol, now THAT would make a great story!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hiya folks. You guys are amazing, really really amazing. You've been pretty amazing. (cyber hats off to anyone who gets it, let me know who you informed guys are!) Already over 200 alerts! Yikes. Yahoo. Yum. Different context, sure, but the sentiment's the same ;)**

**And before I go any further, thank you, chiisai-kitty, for your **_**amazing **_**beta skills!**

**One last thing…Charlaine Harris owns these characters. I have to pay rent. ***_**shrugs**_*** It's worth it.**

…

I woke up slowly, unwillingly. As I lay snuggled under the covers, now and then stretching an arm or leg, I pondered the phantasmagoric events of the nights before. I briefly wondered if I had dreamed everything. Probably. Although I read somewhere that dreams are supposed to reveal your innermost thoughts and desires—did that mean I was subconsciously suicidal because I dreamt I had invited a strange vampire into my home?

When I stumbled downstairs and saw the forgotten wash pan and soggy towel on the kitchen floor, I knew with a sinking heart that it was no dream. Eric was alive, or as alive as a vampire could be, probably lying somewhere six feet under the ground in the nearby graveyard. I briefly wondered if I should have left out a shovel for him to use, but then figured there was no use worrying about it. He obviously figured out how to dig a hole, or else there would have been Eric gunk in my bed.

Coffee. Coffee was a must if I needed to formulate a plan of action. Dawn hadn't called back or left a message on my machine like I desperately needed her to. Although I wasn't really friendly with her, I knew she would probably know how to tame and entertain a vampire. I had no idea how to handle this situation. I had no way of feeding or fending off a blood-thirsty vampire whose sole belongings in this world consisted of a fabulous pair of red underwear and some freshly-laundered pair of jeans.

Yeah, definitely no decaf for me this morning.

As I waited for the coffee, I grabbed a pen and piece of scrap paper from the cabinet drawer and sat down at the kitchen table to write a much-needed to-do list.

_1. Talk to Dawn about Eric. Ask for help?_

I still didn't know if Dawn would have some answers, but it was worth a shot. She was the only one that knew him, after all. From what I'd seen in her memory, her night with Eric was just a one night stand, a feed-and-fuck. Would she be considered fast food? I chuckled and tried to focus. God, I needed caffeine.

_2. Buy True Blood—gas station/Walmart._

I remembered looking at a True Blood sign when I last filled up my car at the gas station, but Walmart would probably have some because, hey, they have everything. Oh, that reminded me.

_3. Buy clothing—jeans/shirts/shoes. Check size on Eric's jeans. Silver jewelry?_

I still wanted a way to protect myself from Eric, even if it was as simple as wearing a chain necklace. Between my Gran and I, we didn't have very nice or legitimate jewelry, so it would be like hitting two birds with one stone if I bought me some sterling silver.

_4. Research vampire facts—silver/sunlight/garlic/cross, etc. Also, when do they "get up"—sunset?_

Just then the coffee machine dinged, so I poured myself a much-appreciated cup and sipped greedily. Feeling slightly awakened from the dead but not enough to stop making corny vampire-flavored puns, I looked over my list again, trying to see if I had forgotten anything.

I deduced that I'd need to stop at the local Walmart, possibly the gas station, and the town library (for the vampire investigation). And I would need to shower before doing all of that.

I grabbed a banana and a granola bar and went out back and sat on the porch steps, gazing at the cemetery as if searching for someone in a large crowd … which I kind of was. I wondered where Eric was. From my viewpoint I couldn't see any disturbance in the earth. I just hoped he had made it to the cemetery okay.

When I ran out of liquid brain juice, I quickly showered and threw on a pair of jeans and a simple grey sweater. I grabbed my purse and car keys and drove off before I could question why I was so interested in helping Eric.

I stopped at Walmart first, and I was glad because it sold a bunch of blood substitute drinks—in addition to True Blood, there was Hemo-Soda, Fountain of Youth, and Bloody Mary. I thought that since True Blood was the only brand I was familiar with, it must be pretty good, so I placed up two four-packs into my shopping cart, not knowing how many would be enough for Eric.

Picking out clothes wasn't much easier; I chose a second pair of jeans, underwear cut like the ones he had on last night plus a pair of boxers on sale, and a plain black tee shirt and a white Louisiana Tech sweatshirt. I guessed on most of his sizes; I'd just have to keep the receipt if I needed to return anything. I also had trouble deciding on what size shoe he was—and from what I remembered it would be a pretty big size—so I just bought a pair of XL cheap rubber flip flops and moved on to the jewelry section, where I bought a thick silver necklace with a cross on it, hoping that would cover all the bases. I also picked up a few silver rings just in case.

Walmart apparently sold both vampire nutrition and anti-vampire weapons, which was an interesting paradox that showed how much the company wanted to turn a profit—there was a section that had enough vampire weapons that it looked like the prop room for _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. I picked up a can of silver mace, one of the larger silver nets, and a medium-sized wooden stake that could fit in my pocket. I didn't have a gun for the silver bullets available for purchase, and I reflected that I probably should anyway regardless of Eric, now that I was a single woman who lived by herself out in the country where her closest neighbors were all dead.

While waiting in line, I was gazing listlessly the titles of the DVDs stacked by the register and noticed that the movie version of the book that had so disgusted Eric last night was on sale. I threw it in the basket after a moment of deliberation. Watching it would be a good thing to do with Eric as we waited for his life to come back.

As I was buying the items and trying not to think about how much protecting a vampire and myself was costing me, my eyes were drawn to a large "WANTED" poster on the wall…one that had a picture of an eerily familiar-looking man with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. I prayed my eyes were just playing tricks on me and that having blonde hair and blue eyes was very trendy for criminals. After I scooped up the plastic bags, I made my way over to where the poster was hanging up.

My stomach dropped as I realized that this was in fact the man who had slept in the same bed as me last night, although he looked more like the Eric Dawn knew than the Eric I was familiar with. This 8 x 10 photo Eric exuded worldliness and confidence, smoldering up at the camera like he was posing for a woman's magazine, which it kind of looked like since he was seated the same gold throne Dawn had seen him on. Well, at least it wasn't a mug shot.

Underneath the "WANTED" read "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?" in a large font. The poster explained that Eric _Northman—_aha!—had gone missing and his friends were so anxious and worried that they were offering a cash reward of $50,000 just for a confirmed sighting.

$50,000? Huh. That would cover what I had just spent on True Bloods and clothing and then some. Using the pen and crumpled to-do list I had thrown in my purse, I carefully copied down the number listed on the sign, wishing I had a cell phone or a camera to take a picture of it to show Eric later.

The only suspicious thing was that the identity of the person with the aforementioned phone number wasn't listed—it didn't say anything like, "Call Eric's sister Erica at ... " In fact, now that I read between the lines, the poster didn't say that Eric was a vampire or that he worked at Fangtasia or even when he went missing or was last seen. Odd.

I flashed back to when I was eleven years old and my cat, Susie, had gone missing for two days. I had made up wanted signs and hung them up all around town, but I included absolutely everything I knew about my cat—even the most random and insignificant details like her favorite brand of cat food and what I thought her favorite color was. And if I went through all of that trouble just for a cat, I felt like someone would do the same, if not more, for a vampire. Especially a vampire worth $50,000.

After some thought I concluded that I wasn't going to call the number or do anything without talking to Eric. It was his life, after all, and from what I'd seen I was just a small footnote in it. Nevertheless, I still felt comforted by the fact that he might soon know who he was and why he lost his memory.

As I drove home, I reflected that the ad asked more questions than it answered. Why had Eric been captured? How did he escape? Would I know his captors, since he had apparently escaped near my house? Why was just a confirmed sighting of him worth $50,000? Was he really that important?

I briefly wished that I had stopped at the liquor store to round up my backup bodyguards, Jim Beam and Jack Daniel.

But I didn't, instead driving home so I could put the TrueBloods in the refrigerator. To take my mind off things I watched one of Gran's favorite soap operas—she always called them her "stories"—while eating a simple lunch: a turkey sandwich, potato chips, and a glass of sweet tea. It was now about three in the afternoon, and I knew I'd have to go to the library soon if I wanted to be at home when Eric woke up—which I definitely did. I had thumbed through the local newspaper at Walmart, and the estimated sunset tonight was supposed to be around 5:30 pm.

Once I arrived at the library, I headed straight to their computer room. Based on Eric's comments last night, I thought that reading or watching any works of fiction about vampires would be out of the question. But besides that, all I could find were websites discussing the usual vampire clichés—garlic and silver weakens them, sunlight or a wooden stake kills them, their reflections can't be seen in photographs or mirrors. Nothing I didn't already know. I sighed and checked the clock. It was 4:45.

Suddenly, I had the brilliant idea of looking up Fangtasia on Google. Thankfully it had its own website, complete with the phone number and address of the bar that I carefully scrawled onto my to-do list. I noticed that the phone number did not match up with the one from the wanted poster. Weird.

I studied the website's table of contents and couldn't find anything about an Eric Northman, not even when I visited the "photo gallery" page that unfortunately only showed pictures of an empty bar mostly decorated in black and red tones and lots of leather. From what I could see, I would have guessed that it was a strip club, but the website professed that it was "Shreveport's Premier Vampire Bar."

I decided to Google "Eric Northman" and gasped audibly when I discovered that there were 587,442 hits relating to that name, temporarily blowing my mind. Most of the links were to blogs or fan pages that only described how hot he was or what he was like in bed, which I studied for research purposes only. On more than one occasion was he called a "VILF," one of the newer phrases that had popped up along with the vampires. Most websites mentioned sightings of him at Fangtasia, so I knew it was the right Eric. Once again, there weren't any pictures of him, only pictures of Fangtasia or poorly-drawn sketches of his likeness. Nevertheless, I was still proud of myself for all of the information I had dug up today. I hoped Eric would be too.

I glanced at the clock. It was now 5:15, and I had less than fifteen minutes left of undisturbed peace that I knew would be broken once Eric woke up.

I stopped for ice cream and ordered the largest hot fudge sundae available.

…

**Kind of a filler chapter here, but it was necessary. It sets up the next coupla chapters really well, promise!**

****Anyone who reviews gets a free coupon for a preview excerpt from Chapter Four. Hurry up and use it before it expires!****


	4. Chapter 4

**Hope you guys aren't getting tired of hearing this, but you're the best. Seriously. You are the blood to my vampire … err, vampires. Get it? Hah.**

**Two things: thanks to NelBearPig for her bipolar Walmart shopping and my beta chiisai-kitty for being my beta chiisai-kitty. Simple as that. Oh, and you can thank (or curse, depending on if you're feeling sarcastic or feisty) my fingers for any typos.**

**Charlaine Harris is the mother of these characters … I'm kind of like the neighbor that gets to babysit once in a while and collect the mail when she's on vacation. I'll take it.**

***And just a heads up, I said this before but I rearrange some things so they match up. Just keep chewing on that.**

…

The sun was setting as I drove down the road that jumpstarted my life. The view would have been pretty if it didn't serve as an annoying reminder that I was late and probably going to arrive home after Eric awoke. I cursed myself for my moment of weakness when I stopped for a much-needed hot fudge sundae. But on the other hand, there had been another wanted sign posted behind the counter, so it wasn't all for nothing. Yeah.

I wished I had bought a whole pint of ice cream when the sky darkened and my automatic headlights flicked on, and I wished I had bought the entire ice cream store when I saw Eric sitting on my back porch by himself. As soon as he saw my car he stood up, a smile instantly replacing the forlorn expression that had overpowered his face seconds before.

He zoomed over and opened the car door for me, holding a hand out as he exclaimed, "I thought you left me. I'm glad you are home now."

"I know, I'm sorry. I got caught up. But I was late for a good reason, I promise." Eric lifted me out and I let go of his hand regretfully. He was still wearing Jason's clothes, but they were a little dirtier than they had been last night.

"I can see that," he replied as he saw my Walmart bags on the table; he sat down in front of the biggest one and looked at me expectantly. I took the items out of the bag one by one and he thanked me for the clothing. I giggled when he made a face upon seeing the DVD, but I did manage to extract a promise out of him that he would watch it with me.

The cozy atmosphere darkened when I silently took the anti-vampire materials out of the bag and set them on the table. He didn't say anything, but I still saw how his eyes widened and how his head swiveled towards me once he saw what the items were. I tried my best not to feel guilty.

"They're not for you," I said softly to reassure him. "They're for whoever took you, in case they come back. They're nothing but backup insurance, that's all."

He still looked shaky, but he nodded feebly after a few moments. The sight just about broke my heart. I walked over and kneeled down in front of him so he could feel like he had the upper hand, something I remembered from an introductory psychology class I took in high school.

"Hey, look at me." He obliged, and then I was staring at the stormy sky bottled up in iris form. "Just like you said last night, I'm not going to hurt you. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to protect myself, okay? I just want to be prepared. I don't have superpowers and fangs and healing properties, you know."

He nodded after thinking about it. The silence was stuffy before he replied thoughtfully, "You're right, I'm sorry I doubted you. I trust you."

"You trust me? You must be insane," I said, echoing his words from last night. I wanted to dissolve the strained tension that was heating up the cramped kitchen.

His smile grew. "You're the only person I know. You're the only person who knows who I am. I can't lose you yet," he smirked, playing the game with me. I mentally sighed in relief.

"Did Dawn call back?" Eric asked innocently, and my smile slipped for a second. I glanced at the answering machine. It wasn't blinking, so there weren't any new messages, but I still had to rearrange my face so I'd look upset.

I didn't want to lose him just yet. I didn't know how much I missed having someone to talk to in the house before Eric happened. Now I found myself talking just to have someone listen and talk back to me. After all, there's only so many conversations you can have out loud with yourself or the TV before you start feeling depressed.

I stood up and walked to the fridge, feeling Eric's eyes on me. I took out a box of True Blood and set it in front of Eric. He read the package and instantly looked up at me for an explanation.

"True Blood?" he asked, trying out the name. "It is fake blood?"

"Eric, I know as much about it as you do," I tried to joke, but it sounded more like a scolding. "It's been around for a year or so. I think it's part of the reason why the vampires came out, because you're supposed to be able to live on it and not have to drink human blood. Well, one of the reasons, if we include your theory, of course."

Eric unscrewed the lid and sniffed, wrinkling his nose. "I know it's supposed to be heated up, but it does not smell appetizing," he complained, sounding like a child who didn't want to eat his vegetables.

I shrugged and held my hand out for the bottle. "To microwave it," I explained when he stared at me questioningly. He gave me the bottle and sullenly sipped the drink when I returned it to him.

"I know you don't like it, but you do look a little better," I offered. It was true, his skin looked a pinker—his teeth and mouth were a whole lot redder, which wasn't nearly as attractive. Oh well, he was a vampire after all. I couldn't forget that. "Did it work?"

He made a noncommittal noise before answering, "I feel somewhat full but in no way satisfied. But I do not require another at the moment."

"You must have looked silly buying True Blood and silver jewelry," Eric added conversationally after a few moments had passed. He looked like he would have liked to have something to get rid of the bad aftertaste. I looked away hurriedly.

I laughed. "You know what? The cashier did kind of give me a weird look, but I didn't really pay attention. God, she must have thought I was super kinky or extremely bipolar or something. But I didn't notice, because that's when—"

The phone rang then, and I leapt up from my spot at the kitchen table. Eric followed me over.

"Dawn?" I asked breathlessly.

"Nope, Sam. You busy, cher?"

Eric shot me a questioning look and I shook my head. "Not Dawn," I mouthed, but he still looked confused and upset. He didn't back off like I thought he would, instead inching closer to where I was standing, putting his hand on the part of the kitchen counter closest to my hip and angling his body towards me like he was trying to protect me.

"No. What's up?" I replied, trying to decode Eric's behavior. I didn't mind, but I was curious. What did he want?

Eric's fingers drummed on the counter as Sam explained he would need someone to work tomorrow, since Holly canceled on him. I said it'd be fine, and after some small talk we hung up.

"That was my boss, he owns the restaurant I work at," I explained. "No Dawn yet. Hey, that reminds me …"

I informed Eric of the poster I had seen at Walmart, and although he seemed impressed by the fact that he was important enough to have friends that would pay such a large sum for him, he agreed with my suspicions and complimented me on my resourcefulness. I couldn't bring myself to tell him what I found on the fangbanger's blogs though. He didn't need to know that right now anyways.

I asked Eric who he'd want to call—Dawn, Fangtasia, or whoever wrote the poster. I said I'd back him on whoever he chose.

"Perhaps you could call my place of employment? Fangtasia, I believe?" Eric asked after a couple minutes of intensely staring at my kitchen table; I was glad that vampires didn't have laser vision—that I knew of, anyways—because he probably would have burned the table with the intensity of his focus.

Fangtasia it is. That's what I would have picked, although I didn't tell him that because I didn't want to influence his decision. Anyways, I was glad he agreed with me and we were on the same page. That would probably work in our favor, especially with whatever happened tonight.

I nodded but didn't move to get the phone. "Oh, I should have said something earlier, but I'll bet you're itching for a shower. Am I right?" I said, trying to stall.

Eric grinned, "Very right." He scooped up some of the clothes and, with a final nod to me, made his way upstairs. I wondered how he knew where the bathroom was or how to turn the shower on, but figured he probably got bored and did some investigative work last night while I tried to be Sleeping Beauty.

I focused on making a salad and cooking some chicken to get my mind off the dirty thoughts I was entertaining about Eric in my shower. While I was placing my dinner on the table, Eric bounced down the stairs wearing the new pair of jeans and the tee shirt, his hair still damp and wickedly delicious looking. I almost dropped my glass on the kitchen floor.

Eric raised an eyebrow and I closed my eyes for a second before saying, "Sorry to be eating in front of you. Can I get you another True Blood?"

He shook his head no and comfortably slid into the seat across from where I had set my meal. Once I started eating he began asking questions about food, like what my favorite dishes were and what kinds of food I served at work. I thought it was nice of him to try and take an interest in my life, especially when it probably wasn't as interesting as his. Well, his old life, I suppose. Then again, it's not like he has anyone else's life to compare it to.

I cleared the table with a heavy heart, not because I hated cleaning up but because I knew I couldn't keep stalling.

"Should you call, or should I?" I called out; Eric was in the living room watching some television.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you, but would you mind doing it? I'm not sure if someone there betrayed me," he said as he walked in. He kept his eyes trained on the floor. Wow, he had really thought about this. Or else he had just been watching a rerun of _The Sopranos._

I nodded and sat down next to Eric. "But what should I say?" I internally winced, feeling like a teenage girl asking her friends for advice before calling her crush. Except my crush was already in my house. Wait … what?

He shrugged, "Just ask for the manager or owner, perhaps? Pretend you are a woman I have had sex with who wants to see me again."

"You want me to act like a fangbanger?" I asked incredulously, refusing to comment on pretending that I had had sex with Eric. Besides, I had nothing to base that charade off of, having never met one or aspired to be one. At least I didn't have to look like a fangbanger, since I would be pretending over the phone.

Eric looked taken back and quickly replied, "What is a fangbanger? Is that a bad thing? You don't have do anything you don't want to, Sookie. You're already doing more than enough as it is."

I recovered by saying, "I was just surprised. A fangbanger is like a groupie, someone who likes having sex with vampires and being bitten by them. I just don't know what a fangbanger would talk like. I guess I can act like some of the girls I see at Merlotte's, though."

He nodded after a second, and the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a decent idea. Even so, I didn't punch the numbers into the phone right away, instead staring at the electronic device like it might know what happened to Eric. My one-sided staring contest was interrupted when Eric scooted his chair closer and placed a hand over mine, the one that was resting on the table.

"Sookie, please do not be afraid. You can do this."

I smiled feebly and flipped my hand over, lacing my fingers with Eric's. He smiled and squeezed softly. I drew in a deep breath and dialed the number I had practically memorized since I had first written it down.

I was allotted one ring to gather my wits before someone picked up—"Fangtasia, the bar with a bite. This is Ginger." I could barely hear her over the background music and my heavy breathing, something that was making me feel incredibly self-conscious and very aware of the fact that I was currently holding hands with a vampire.

"Hi, I was wondering if I could speak with your boss?" I asked, my voice sounding stronger and clearer than I would have thought possible, especially considering the fact that the hand holding the phone was shaking as much as my other one would have been if it wasn't currently being stroked by a concerned-looking Eric. He nodded slightly in encouragement and winked.

"Master Eric is not available at the moment," Ginger drawled, sounding bored with our conversation. Eric's hand gripped mine as soon as she said that. I don't know how he heard, but he looked as surprised as I felt. How many vampires named Eric could there be working at that place?

"Master Eric?" I mouthed at Eric, who shrugged his shoulders. He mouthed back his trademark slogan, "I don't know." Right, amnesiac.

"And do you know why?" I asked, hoping that she was smarter than she sounded and actually knew the answer to the very important question.

"I don't—" she began, but then it sounded like the phone was snatched from her hands, a suspicion that was confirmed when a less friendly female voice came on the phone.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

I winced at the bite in the woman's voice, and Eric squeezed my hand and whispered, "Fangbanger."

"Eric?" the woman called out. I removed the phone from its position on my ear and gaped at it. Eric stared at it too, surprise beaming out of his eyes. And even though the phone wasn't pressed against my ear, I could hear that woman bark, "Eric? Is that you? Are you all right? Human, why do you have Eric with you? Did Hallow put you up to this? How did you get him? I command you to explain yourself immediately."

Eric and I gawked at each other in horror, and I instantly hung up and hurled the phone across the room, where it skidded underneath the refrigerator.

Unfortunately, five seconds later it began ringing as loudly and as clearly as if it was still in my hands.

I was frozen in my seat, my hand grasping Eric's so tightly I probably would have broken his bones if he was human. "Should I get it?" I asked, praying that he would say no.

"Yes, but only because the human referred to me as Master Eric. That must mean I have some sort of authority or higher power," he replied. As I sat there dumbly, wondering how he knew that the first woman was a human and what the heck the second woman was then, he moved to the fridge at vampire speed and returned with the ringing phone. I held a shaking hand out.

He shook his head, firmly saying, "No. I should have done this before. I will talk on the phone this time. This is my responsibility. But tell me, is there any way you can also hear this forthcoming conversation?"

I nodded and pressed the "Speaker" button, gently grazing his fingers that were gripping the phone as I did that. He answered the phone but didn't speak right away.

"Human, I may have been alive before telephones were invented, but I do know what Star-Six-Nine is," the unfortunately familiar-sounding non-human female voice said by way of greeting.

"This is Eric," he growled.

"This is Pam," the woman—Pam—replied instantly in a drastically improved tone of voice; it almost sounded respectful. Then again, I couldn't hear background music or snippets of conversation like I did before. She must have moved somewhere quieter.

"I know you," Eric said, trying to make it seem more like a statement than the question that it really was.

"Yes. I am your child. I work for you. I owe you fealty," she said, sounding a little apprehensive. "Are you safe?"

"Yes," Eric replied confidently, reaching out and taking my hand. I smiled at his quickness in responding.

"How can we tell you're not lying?" I asked without thinking, forgetting that I was only supposed to be listening in. Eric's eyes darted to mine briefly.

"How can I tell you're not lying?" she shot back. "Let me think … Eric had on a pair of jeans the last time I saw him … size 34, Lucky brand, dark wash with a 36.5" inseam. No shirt. No shoes."

Eric glanced at me and I nodded. I didn't know about the inseam, but the size and brand were correct. And as I had repeatedly noticed almost every time I looked at him, Eric did have very long legs.

"Very well," Eric said, clearing his throat.

"I cannot discuss this any further on this line, but I must see you. I found an address when I traced this call; I assume you are there?" Pam asked.

Eric looked to me again and I shrugged. "Correct," he replied.

"Then you can expect me in an hour's time. I will bring Chow with me, you can trust us both. Eric, I am glad to hear you are well. You have scared us in a way I would not have thought possible. We will deal with the human when we get there." _Click._

"Deal with the human?" I asked fearfully, looking up into Eric's unblinking blue eyes. "I don't like the sound of that."

He scowled. "I promise you, Sookie, I will protect you like you have protected me. I said this before, but I will not hurt you, and now I will not let anyone else hurt you."

"What is Pam?" I asked, concerned about the one person who sounded like she did in fact want to hurt me.

"I believe I turned Pam."

"Into a vampire, you mean?"

"Exactly. The fact that she said she was my child and owed me fealty, coupled with how she did not interrupt or disagree with me, leads me to believe that I am her superior."

"How did you know she was a vampire? How did you know Ginger was human?"

He looked out the window briefly and then turned his attention back on me, "I am not sure how to explain this, but her voice sounded human and Pam's sounded vampire."

Of course that did nothing to quench my thirst, but I forced myself to nod and smile like that made perfect sense.

"I think now would be a good time to collect the insurance," he stated, and for a couple awful seconds I thought he meant my life insurance. "The silver and the stake?" Eric added to clarify.

"Right. Of course," I said, releasing his hand and walking over to the cupboard where I had stashed them. I put the jewelry on in front of Eric, fumbling clumsily with the clasp of the necklace but unable to ask him for help.

"If that jewelry wasn't capable of hurting me I would say it was very nice," Eric teased, trying to lighten the mood. It worked—I snorted.

We waited in the living room for Armageddon to commence, and we prepared by watching a Jeopardy rerun and discussing tactics during the commercial breaks. Sometimes I'd answer a question correctly, and Eric would compliment me and look impressed. He, of course, did not venture a guess at anything, but seemed content to alternate between watching the program and watching me. When I shivered he draped his favorite quilt over us without asking, and I snuggled closer to him, making sure that my neck and fingers didn't touch his skin.

I tried not to look at my watch too much, but Eric still declared, "Don't be scared, Sookie," as he wrapped an arm around me and the blanket.

"I'm not," I lied automatically.

"Yes you are. I can smell it."

I thought he was joking until I remembered all of the other things he could do. I shifted to gaze up at him and asked, "You can _smell_ my fear? Ugh, why am I not surprised!"

He barked out a laugh.

"What else can you smell?" I asked, fascinated by all the weird vampire senses. I was living in my own Hollywood blockbuster, that's for sure!

"I can smell that you're a fair maiden." I made a face. A fair maiden? Couldn't he tell I was a woman just by looking at me? He peered over at me and sighed when he saw I clearly wasn't getting it. "You are pure … untouched. A virgin."

I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head in embarrassment. Of all the super vampire powers imaginable, he had to have one that could detect if someone was a virgin. Seemed like a pretty stupid ability to me.

Seconds later I felt the blanket move, and Eric's head was suddenly right next to mine. I closed my eyes. Didn't he get that the whole point of tugging the blanket over my head was so that I wouldn't have to look at him?

"Sookie, why are you behaving so strangely? I think it is very admirable. From what you've told me, not many women today are like you. It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said, trying to soothe me as he rubbed my arms.

I was _so_ not opening that can of worms with Eric, especially not right now. I tried to change the subject by joking, "Remind me never to go near you after I mow the lawn and get all sweaty and gross."

It worked, but what he responded with made me wish I hadn't said anything. "Don't be silly, Sookie. You could never smell gross to me."

"You don't have to be nice, Eric." _Even though you have a charming yet unusual way of giving compliments._

"I'm not. You smell delicious, intoxicating even. I imagine your scent would be even better if you were in the sunlight all day. In fact, you're the best-smelling human I know."

"That's not a compliment, Eric, it's a fact since I'm the only human you actually do know," I said darkly, in no mood to come up with a snappy retort. I seriously hoped Eric was just making this up to distract me. Forget the time I accidentally tripped at Merlotte's and face-planted on the slice of cake I had been carrying so hard I actually broke the plastic plate—this was by far the most embarrassing moment of my twenty-four years. And it happened before what would probably be the scariest moment of my life.

We had T minus 5 minutes until the bombs detonated.

I showed Eric my watch and he stood up. Our plan was to go into my bedroom and have Eric keep an eye out for the incoming vampire plus whatever Chow was. When they arrived, we would try not to reveal Eric's amnesia for as long as we could.

He trudged upstairs while I concealed the net in the front closet just in case. The mace and the stake were already concealed in the kangaroo pocket of the baggy sweatshirt I had put on.

Once I finished with my part I joined Eric in my room. He was standing near the window, watching me put on a pair of silver hoops that had belonged to my mother.

"You know, you could wear those," he said, gesturing to some old brooches, hair pins, and other trinkets of Gran's that were laid on my dresser. "I tried touching them and they burned me."

"Sure, why not? The more the merrier," I said weakly, not liking the image of Eric's hands burning just from touching a piece of jewelry.

As soon as I said that I felt two more voids, voids that felt like Eric's void, approach the house. I turned to Eric and he looked at me. This was it. This was actually happening.

…

**Up next- Pam and Chow! Dum dum dum ... You guys are so witty and creative, I'm interested in hearing your theories/thoughts/guesses!**

**Oh, hey, remember that coupon from last time? The one that offers a free preview of the next chapter if you review the story? It's still valid, so use it up, my friends!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello out there! You guys are the best. Seriously, take your hands off the keyboard or the mouse for a second and give yourself a pat on the back. Especially you, chiisai-kitty, for being my beta!**

**The characters aren't mine, but the mistakes are.**

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"They're here," he whispered hoarsely. "Two vampires. Good news is that I can smell my blood in one of them. Pam was telling the truth, she must be really be my child. This is good."

Just then the doorbell rang. Eric held my hand as he led me down the stairs. The plan was for him to open the door and for me to stay out of their reach, which I definitely planned on doing. I wasn't to invite them in at all costs, no matter what they said or did to Eric.

Eric let go of me and, squaring his shoulders, opened the door. A beautiful blonde woman dressed in a skintight leather corset dress and black stilettos was standing next to an Asian man with long black hair and tattoos covering every inch of his body that wasn't concealed by his plain black tuxedo vest and leather pants. Both had their fangs out, smiling devilishly and fitting into every vampire stereotype known to humankind. Trick-or-treaters they ain't.

Eric moved in front of me to protect me, and I wanted to wrap myself around his legs and beg him not to leave me. No one said anything for a few awful moments, but the woman—Pam—broke the silence by saying, "Eric," and nodding her head. She stared pointedly at me but remained silent, waiting.

The other vampire—Chow—soon followed suit, bowing to Eric and murmuring, "Master" respectfully. My jaw dropped, but I was glad Eric was blocking me off so they couldn't see it. Eric stood still and silent, like a statue. I shook and whimpered like a scared puppy.

"She is not a witch. I do not detect any magic," Chow said, turning to Pam. Now, why the heck would they think I was a witch?

"Obviously if she was a witch she would have protected herself and her home better," she retorted. She looked like a milkmaid rebelling on Halloween.

In my head I started formulating a type of vampire pecking order: Eric beats Pam and Chow. Pam beats Chow, maybe. Eric is Pam's creator. Somehow he is Chow's master. Most importantly, Eric beats everyone. That was incredibly relieving, as was the fact that the vampires had not attempted to hurt me or Eric.

Then, Pam turned and looked straight at me. Her eyes were paler and more heavily made up than Eric's, and they were decidedly less friendly or expressive. She didn't say anything, but continued staring at me; I could feel something trying to poke into my mind. She was trying to influence me, to get me to do what she wanted, something I had only read about in trashy tabloid magazines. "Glamoring," I think it was called. She exchanged a significant glance with Chow, who then stared at me much like Pam had. I could feel another probing.

"Human, I am Pam. This is Chow," Pam drawled after a few long seconds passed. I got the feeling that she was restraining herself from doing or saying what she wanted since Eric was apparently her master, and because he said he was safe and well with me, demonstrating that I was capable of being trusted.

"Sookie Stackhouse," I said weakly, and Eric grunted and shook his head fractionally. He didn't want me more involved than I had to be. Well, too bad, buddy, I've been involved ever since I convinced myself to do my good deed for the year by taking in a complete stranger.

"Sookie Stackhouse. I would have remembered the name or the face," Pam stated mysteriously, almost to herself. Apparently she did all of the talking and Chow just focused on being menacing. He was quite good at it.

Pam and Chow looked at each other, and I could have sworn they were having a silent conversation with themselves. Maybe I was so scared I was seeing things, but it looked like their mouths were open the tiniest bit, but vampires don't need to breathe. I was glad I didn't have to worry about throwing up a mental shield, because I was already mentally drained and exhausted.

My suspicions were confirmed when Eric suddenly roared, "You will NOT. Sookie is with me. She has not tortured me or killed me or done anything but be kind to me. She cleaned me and clothed me and let me into her house and slept while I was awake. I obviously trust her with my life. She is to be treated with the utmost respect. That is a command. Adhere to it."

I was completely taken aback by the anger and power in his voice; he had seemed so fragile around me, but now he was clearly in his element. Was this what he was like normally? The other vampires looked surprised before shame covered their faces and they looked at the floor. Eric seemed pleased with the respect they had shown to him, as he straightened his posture and held his head up high to look down at them. This entire time he had not glanced back at me.

'_The moment they try to abduct and torture Sookie will be their last. If they do anything I will rip their fangs out and tear off their limbs and get Sookie to burn them with her silver and force them to meet the sun. And we will enjoy every moment of it.'_

I gasped, "Eric! That's sick!"

He whipped his head around, and I thought he would break his neck. Pam and Chow peered around him to stare. Each vampire had his or her mouth open and eyes fixed on little old me.

I looked at Eric. What did I do? He was the one thinking that disgusting stuff. Wait. _Fuck. FUCK._

"What _are_ you?" Pam snarled, and I knew then that if I had invited her into my house she would currently be doing bodily harm to me, silver be damned. Chow looked the same way. Eric was watching me, an awful combination of confusion, terror, and surprise clearly on his face. My being telepathic was _so_ not part of the plan.

"This is Hallow's work, I am sure of it," Chow growled, his hands clenched into fists.

Eric turned so that he was facing me, and it looked like he was positioning himself with the vampires. His eyes were little slits now, and his fangs had popped out. He was in a crouched position, as if any second now he was going to tackle me with his vampire speed. He looked a hundred times more terrifying and vampire-like than when I first saw him. He didn't have to smell my fear or hear my heart—I was one thousand percent sure that I looked like the girl in a horror movie right before the serial killer or werewolf or, gulp, vampire kills her.

"_ERICIUNINVITEYOUFROMMYHOUSE!"_ I shrieked without even thinking about the repercussions, scrambling back towards the stairs while fumbling to whip out my can of mace and my stake. Shock slapped his face as he zoomed backwards out onto the porch. I breathed deeply, glad that my last-minute eureka moment had worked; turns out you _can _disinvite a vampire from your house, as Eric just proved. Now he was sandwiched between Pam and Chow, who looked like they wanted to rip my body to shreds and make a Sookie smoothie.

"What are you?" Pam interrogated in a low, deadly voice. "You do not smell of witch or were or shifter or fairy. You smell of human."

There were so many things in that sentence that perplexed me I couldn't even address them. I felt like a porcupine in a condom factory.

"I'm just a waitress," I called out shakily. The vampires looked so much scarier and bigger when Eric wasn't in front of me. If looks could kill … wait, could vampires do that? No, that's a basilisk … in a school for _witches_ and wizards! _Shit_! I looked at my carpet.

Eric spoke up, "No, you are more than just a waitress. You are a telepath."

Pam and Chow's eyes lit up with recognition and surprise. Eric's eyes just looked very blue. He thought I was the enemy, the bad guy, the villain—I could see it clearly. I hated that.

I gulped and took a deep breath and nodded. _This was it._

"What else can you do?" Eric asked quietly, almost resigned to the fact that I was the one who did this to him. He looked sadder than I had ever seen him. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets and he was looking at my fireplace.

"I can read people's minds. That's it. I couldn't even _hear_ you last night or earlier today, Eric, I swear. This was the first time. And sometimes I can't even read other people's minds, like my boss's!" I pleaded, wanting them to believe me. I was telling the truth … couldn't they smell that or something? Now THAT sounded like a better ability than sniffing out someone's virginity.

Pam growled, "There's no use lying. The game is up." She licked her lips and smiled broadly. I shivered.

"Wait," Eric said softly; Pam and Chow glanced toward him incredulously. "You can't hear your boss's thoughts?"

"Sam?" I asked dubiously. _What does Sam have to do with any of this?_ "No, not really. Sometimes I'll pick up phrases, but mostly it's just colors or emotions, if anything. Why does that matter? You've never even met him!"

"Her boss is a shifter," Eric explained to Pam and Chow, and they looked back at me. I stared dumbly at Eric. _Shifter? What the hell is a shifter?_ "You were not aware of this?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know anything, Eric, I promise. I don't know what a shifter even is. I don't know who this Hallow person is or what she did. All I know is I found you running down the road last night…morning…whatever and I stopped and took you home with me. I didn't even know your last name until I saw the wanted poster!"

"What wanted poster?" Pam thundered. Eric nodded at me to explain. I retold everything I knew, and when I tried to remember the phone number Eric recited it perfectly to Pam and Chow.

"That's a Shreveport area code," Pam murmured thoughtfully, gazing up at the sky. She looked pensive before her features contorted and she barked, "Where did you see this sign?"

"Um, the Walmart in town and the Inside Scoop ice cream parlor on West Street," I choked out. Pam nodded to Chow, who zoomed off to confirm the posters, I guess.

She turned her attention to me again but didn't say anything, just glared at me. Well, her intimidation tactic was certainly working; my hands hadn't stopped shaking since I rescinded Eric's invitation to my house and I was having trouble breathing. I briefly realized that if I had a heart attack or panic attack no one would be able to help me. Pam would probably chuckle, now that I thought about it. Eric was silently looking back and forth between his blanket and me, trying to figure this out.

"Have you touched her?" Pam abruptly asked Eric, who ripped his eyes from the couch and looked at her.

"Yes. She washed my feet and I held her hand while she slept. Why?" I thought I had felt him grasp my hand last night, but I pushed that to the back of my mind. I could digest that later, but right now I had bigger things on my plate.

She hesitated, and did the same thing as before, apparently having a silent conversation with Eric. He glanced at me once and then looked back at Pam.

"You're saying that Chow touched this Hallow's messenger, and once he made contact I suddenly disappeared from the office?" Eric clarified, obviously saying it out loud for my benefit and proving that he still had faith in me despite my former secret. Pam stared at him and promptly shut her mouth before nodding the tiniest nod.

"What did the messenger say to anger him?" Eric asked. Pam opened her mouth slightly to vampire-speak with him but he interrupted her. "No, you will talk normally, Pam. I still trust Sookie. From what you have said it does not seem she is aligned with Hallow. You even accepted her until she inadvertently revealed her telepathy. And ever since then I have been purposely thinking evil and threatening thoughts about her and her brother and she has not reacted or flinched. She has the right to know what happened just as much as I do. Start from the beginning, and do not omit any details."

I blanched. "Eric, that's awful!"

Eric turned to Pam, raising an eyebrow to prove his point. Pam looked at me sharply and bowed her head. She responded, "Yes, Master. Although this is a very long story, I will tell all of it as you wish. A few nights ago—"

"Hold up. Pam, Eric, won't you please come in?" I interrupted, trying to show Eric that I trusted him as much as he trusted me. Eric immediately walked towards me, and I quickly wondered if I made a very stupid mistake before he hugged me, careful not to touch the silver. "I knew you were not involved," he murmured confidently before letting go and taking a step back. Pam was still outside, gaping. Eric turned to see where I was looking and he raised an eyebrow at her. She took an unnecessary breath and strolled over to where Eric was standing. No one moved.

I sighed and plopped myself on the couch, reveling in its warmth and softness. Neither vampire moved. I was so tired I didn't care if I just broke some vampire protocol. I removed all of my jewelry and placed it on the coffee table along with the stake and the spray before looking pointedly at the vampires.

After a brief hesitation Eric followed and positioned himself on the floor with his back pressed up against my legs. Pam sighed and cautiously placed herself down on the love seat that was closest to the open door. The atmosphere became a little less tense, but not much.

"Continue, Pam," Eric ordered, a hand running up and down my calf before it stopped and circled my ankle.

"Yes, Eric. A few nights ago, a human hoping to sleep with Chow informed him that a group of witches had arrived in Shreveport. She didn't understand why we were so interested in the information."

"Well, why were you?" I asked, feeling a little bolder knowing that Eric still trusted and protected me despite everything that just happened. "After all, you're _vampires_. Witches are just little goth girls who wear black and listen to Marilyn Manson."

Pam shook her head and bit down on her lip for some reason. "You are basing that off of preconceived notions of witches. These witches are much, much more than little goth girls; they are women and sometimes even men of any age or race. This particular group is stronger than any other I have encountered, something Eric had agreed with after meeting with them. You see, our very existence is rooted in magic, magic that they have some control over. It was not good that such a large and powerful witch coven came to Shreveport, the second largest vampire community in Louisiana, after New Orleans."

She let me stew in my ignorance for a few seconds before continuing, "This group came to our area for a reason, to take over Eric's businesses."

My eyes widened at the plural noun, and I felt Eric still. Pam noticed and nodded her head. "It will take too long if I say what they are, but know that Fangtasia is by far the most prominent and lucrative out of all of them, and the witches know this. We hosted the leaders of the group—Hallow and her brother Mark—and they said they would either take over the businesses or make us wish they did."

"Didn't you offer protection money?" I asked, for once thankful for my brother's obsession with _The Godfather_ and its sequels. Pam nodded and I beamed, glad I was finally not acting like the human village idiot.

"We told them we needed time to think about it. Hallow made it clear that she knew plenty of spells that could disrupt a business and then left. Yesterday evening a lesser witch—Hallow's messenger—came with an alternative proposal. If Eric agreed to entertain Hallow for seven nights, than Hallow would only demand a fifth of his business, rather than a half like she initially asked for."

"What can Eric do?" I asked Pam, unclear on the whole entertaining thing.

She looked surprised, raising an eyebrow and saying, "I do not understand your question."

"Why is Eric so valuable? What would he do to entertain her? Vampire magic tricks?"

Pam smirked, and I decided that she looked even scarier than when she had her fangs out or when she was growling at me. "Hallow lusted after Eric. She desired him. She wanted him to please her sexually. She wanted him inside her. Need I say more?"

I blushed and shook my head furiously. I felt Eric move his head to glance up at me. He was not entirely successful at hiding his gleeful expression, he obviously liked hearing he was such a hot catch. I was glad I didn't tell him about the fangbangers' blogs. After a few seconds I snuck a peek and saw that there was a slight difference in the way he was looking at me. I felt this immense feeling of horrid inevitability—like when you see your car begin to roll downhill and you just know that no matter how much you run or yell it's just going to crash.

Pam saved me. "Though I believed my master might be wise to agree, Eric spurned her advances," she said, shooting Eric a less than loving glance that illustrated exactly what she thought, "in such a vulgar and humiliating way that Hallow cursed him."

I tensed, and Eric looked up instantly to see what was wrong. "I thought you said Eric was cursed when Chow attacked the lesser witch," I said slowly, hoping that I wasn't being played.

"Correct," Pam agreed, but she didn't offer anything else.

"So was the lesser one boobytrapped with Hallow's curse that went off when Chow attacked her?"

"Apparently. We did not know that was possible."

"What are you doing?" Chow appeared in the doorway. His hair looked wilder and he was holding a very familiar-looking poster. "What is this?"

"Sookie has proven herself to not be a member of the clan. Eric trusts her. She invited us in," Pam drawled without turning around from her position on the loveseat, sounding like she was talking to a child. She looked as amused, or as amused as I thought she could be.

"Chow," Eric said slowly, "If you promise to control yourself, Sookie will invite you in." Chow nodded.

I didn't say anything. Eric nudged me. "It's okay, Sookie, I'm with you."

"Chow, you can come in." _But don't you dare forget that you can come out too._

He stepped in hesitatingly, and once he saw that nothing happened he took three more steps and stood next to Pam's loveseat. He didn't sit down. Fine, be that way. He was shaping up to be my least-favorite vampire of the bunch, especially because Eric's amnesia was his whole damn fault.

"What took you so long? Checking out the everyday low prices at Walmart?" Pam reprimanded. I stiffened a smile. Although she could kill me, and probably even scare me to death, I liked her more than Chow, despite everything she had said and done.

"I visited every store in the town. Each one has a poster. I glamored the shopkeepers into revealing that a woman matching Hallow's description and a man matching her brother's put the signs up today. As you can smell, each one is distinctly witch-made. There is magic on the poster."

I resisted pointing out that I definitely was not involved with the plot, since they had already figured out I didn't smell like a witch. Eric seemed to be thinking the same thing, and he moved fractionally closer to me. Fractionally because that was all the closer he could get; my legs were already imprinted into the couch. I found myself reaching down to tousle his hair affectionately, but stopped at the last second, pretending to pick a bit of fuzz off of the couch.

"So if someone called the number, the witches would know where to find Eric?" I said, still surprised at what I had almost done.

Pam nodded. "If they had a confirmed sighting, then they would probably search that area looking for him, perhaps with the forced aid of the local witches."

"There aren't any local witches," I scoffed. Then I thought about it and wished I could eat my words. Hell, I was as clueless as Eric at this point.

She politely ignored my outburst and continued, "If the witches found Eric, there would be great danger for him."

I nodded. I wasn't that stupid. "Right. They're out for revenge. That's why Eric's here."

"A lot of people would probably call the number if they saw him. $50,000 is a lot of money."

I nodded again. "Yeah, I could gravel my driveway and renovate the back porch and paint the house and still have enough to take myself out for tea in London."

Chow's eyes flashed at me, and Pam straightened from her position on the love seat. Even Eric stiffened slightly. What was I missing? I replayed the conversation in my mind. _Oh_.

"I'm not going to call the witches. I wouldn't do that to Eric," I quickly assured them. Eric smiled up at me, but the other two vampires didn't look so happy.

"I am aware of the fact that Eric has placed a great deal of trust in you, but how do we know you will not call the witches during the day?" Chow questioned.

I thought for a second and laughed. Bad move once I saw Chow's hands clench. I cleared my throat. "If you promise to compensate me for Eric's living expenses, then I promise I won't call the number."

"Fifty thousand," Eric barked, and everyone turned to stare at him.

I looked down in shock. "Eric! No! That's too much! And you'll probably have to sign the check anyway!"

"It's the same amount you would receive if you called in. It's only fair," he responded.

"No way! I meant that they would cover your living expenses, not practically pay off all my bills! I'm not in this for the money, Eric. Don't be stupid!"

"Ten," Chow countered boldly.

"Forty-five," Eric said. I kicked him in the back but he shrugged it off.

"Twenty."

"Thirty-five."

"Done."

Eric beamed, pleased that he was capable of doing something for me. I glared at him, regretting my poor-mouthing from last night. I also thought it was strange that he wanted to give me such a large sum that would probably come out of his bank account—if he had one. And why did he barter with an inferior and actually compromise? Maybe he just liked a good haggling. Anyways, I was just glad that the sum wasn't as much as it originally was.

"Fine. But if something happens to Eric, then I don't get compensated. It's only fair," I added, ignoring how Eric's head popped up to look at me after I said that. I knew that I was pretty much undermining everything he had just done for me, and was kind of rubbing it in his face by repeating a phrase he had employed to justify his actions, but I didn't like the thought of taking up that much money for something I would have been happy doing for free.

Pam and Chow shrugged. Hey, what do they care? I'm just the human.

"So tell me, Chow, when did you attack the witch?" I asked sweetly, all sugar and spice and everything nice. I knew exactly what he thought of me without even needing to look into his mind. Not that I thought I could, but still.

He narrowed his eyes before replying, "Three a.m."

Eric's hand gripped my ankle. "That's right about when I discovered Eric," I managed, not bothering to cloak the surprise I was feeling.

"Yes, explain that to us," Pam said. "You mentioned seeing him on a road?"

I nodded. "I was coming home from my job—I work as a waitress for the, uh, shifter boss—and was driving down Hummingbird Road, the dirt one you have to turn off of to enter my driveway. Anyway, I was just driving home, no big deal, and then out of the blue I saw Eric running down the road without a shirt or shoes."

I stopped, not knowing if I should reveal Eric's amnesia. That wasn't supposed to happen in the original plan, but obviously circumstances had changed.

"Why were you running, Eric? How did you get there? Why didn't you call us or go to Fangtasia or one of your houses?" Chow questioned impatiently.

I rubbed Eric's back with my foot to try and soothe him. Whatever he said I would swear by. Eric looked up at me and I smiled encouragingly. I could feel the tension in his body.

He took an unnecessary deep breath and turned his attention to Pam and Chow. "I don't know," he said wearily, closing his eyes and then opening them to see their shocked expressions. "I didn't know my name until Sookie told me it."

"And how did you know his name if you never met him before?" Pam asked me, and Chow nodded in agreement. I wondered why they thought that was the most pressing issue, not that their boss – and Pam's vamp daddy – lost his memory.

"A friend of mine, Dawn Green, had sex with Eric. I remembered him from her memory. She went to Fangtasia and approached Eric on his throne and then they had sex in his office."

Chow looked at Pam. Apparently she was in charge of remembering names and faces. Her eyes flicked somewhere into the distance. "Dawn Green … April 2, 1976, 5'9", 14 Lake Creek Road, Bon Temps, dark hair, dark eyes, nice body. Organ donor." She looked back at me for approval and smirked wickedly at my open mouth and widened eyes. Tapping her forehead, she stated, "Never did forget a pretty face."

Once again, Eric looked a little too pleased when hearing about his Romeo qualities. Dawn was a pretty face—and sometimes I thought that was all she really was—and he must have felt proud about the fact that, when he was his real self, women just threw themselves at his very large feet.

"This still doesn't explain why Eric was running down the road towards my house," I said, clearing my throat. Eric nodded up at me.

"Excellent question, Sookie." Eric turned and fixed his gaze on Pam first, then Chow. "Explain," he said to them.

"Master, we do not understand what kind of spell has been cast. We do not know why you were running down that particular road or why you cannot remember anything. Rest assured that we are working on it," Chow said, gritting his teeth.

"All we know is that all three of us were in his office arguing with him, and then we weren't," Pam supplied.

"Ring any bells, Eric?" I asked, reaching down and placing a hand on his shoulder. He covered it with his own and squeezed, but still looked up at me questioningly.

"Do you remember that happening?" I tried, hoping that was clear enough. I wondered why Eric didn't understand that simple phrase.

Apprehension shone in his eyes as he replied, "I was born the moment I was running down the road in the cold and the dark. Until you took me in, I was a void."

Put that way, it was terrifying. But it was also very eloquent and poetic, and I refrained from asking Pam or Chow if Eric was a published author.

I shifted my weight on the couch—my butt was falling asleep—and Eric ripped his hand away and clung to my legs, like a child who didn't want his mommy to leave him at school. I stilled instantly and stroked him with my foot. Pam looked amused, Chow furious.

"So what's the plan, then?" I asked. The two vampires sitting across from me shared a look but didn't say anything. And they didn't try to vampire-speak either.

Eric gazed up at me with his head tilted all the way back; he was looking directly up at me and I could see every pore of his face. Pam drilled holes into me, staring unflinchingly, not moving or blinking. Chow looked at the rug. For the first time tonight, none of the vampires said anything.

"I left a message on Dawn Green's answering machine saying—"

"TELL ME you _did not_ mention anything about Eric!" Pam interrupted furiously, her fangs popping down with a small "click." I quickly thanked God that I hadn't said anything too revealing to Dawn.

"She did not. I heard her," Eric said confidently, patting my leg.

Pam's fangs disappeared, but she still looked like she was being forced to eat bumblebees. "You will speak of this to no one—not your family or friends or co-workers. This _has_ to remain a secret. Eric's life—_your life—_and our lives depends on it. Pretend like everything is fine. Buy TrueBloods in another town. Go out and socialize during the day, say that you're busy at night. If anyone finds out—especially if any witch finds out—we will all be dead, and not the good kind."

Chow followed up Pam's passionate speech with a simple head nod.

I pressed my hands down on Eric's ears, wishing he didn't have weird hearing senses so he wouldn't have to hear what I was going to say. "You want me to watch over Eric, because the witches won't think of looking for him in my house," I said, instantly regretting the tone of my voice when I felt Eric's back go rigid. "But he's such an important guy, with all sorts of bad people combing the area for him. I just don't think I'll be able to protect him. I mean, I met my first vampire yesterday! I worked for my boss for five years and didn't even know he was a shifter thingy! I'm clueless when it comes to supernatural stuff!" I took my hands off of Eric's ears and stuffed them in my lap.

"Well, you do have a thousand-year old vampire quite literally at your fingertips, even if he doesn't know it," Pam stated dryly. I jerked my head down to meet Eric's bewildered gaze. Holy smokes. _A thousand years_ – and he doesn't remember _anything_? That's one hell of a curse. "And you have Chow and me. We will aid you in anything that requires our help." Chow nodded, a little begrudgingly, but a nod nonetheless.

"Okay. Just put me through vampire boot camp then and I'm sure I'll be fine," I laughed. No one else did. Sheesh, tough crowd. "I don't know how to take care of a vampire," I elucidated, using one of the vocabulary words from my Definition-A-Day calendar. Oh, I'd have to get a new one for the New Year, whenever I wasn't being bombarded with vampires and their crazy vampire ways.

"What do you need to know?" Pam asked.

"Everything," I replied without missing a beat. Eric was the only one who chuckled. "Do I have to give Eric my blood?" Eric stopped chuckling and the other vampires started to.

"You don't _have_ to," Pam said smugly. I wanted to smack her, but I knew that she was the kind of gal who would hit back, and hit back harder. "Eric should be fine on TrueBloods, as he is very old and requires very little blood. I think it would be too risky if we brought him donors. I will work on getting bags of blood from the hospital. You would need to refrigerate those and just reheat them whenever he requires blood."

That sounded alright to me. I just hoped Eric was okay with it. He was absentmindedly rubbing my foot with his thumb, staring at the floor.

"Let's go over some guidelines then. I get the no sunlight thing, but what about garlic? No more Italian for a while?"

"Irritating but manageable in small portions. Next?" Pam asked, sounding like I just asked her what five times five was.

"If I took a picture of you or put you in front of a mirror, would I be able to see you?"

"Of course. We created those nonsensical myths so we could prove our supposed innocence if we were accused of being vampires. Also, pictures could serve as evidence that we didn't age. Even after the Revelation we still are still weary of allowing ourselves to be photographed, not that humans deserve to take our pictures and distribute them without written authorization; the bar patrons pathetically believe taking our picture is part of the cover charge. As if. You humans are so stupid I'm genuinely surprised you've managed to survive for so long."

Pam was doing her best to make me feel like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest, but I soldiered on.

"Okay. Eric's shown that you guys can move and talk and read really quickly and heal yourselves and determine if someone's supernatural based on their voice and smell someone's fear or virginity. And _you guys_ have shown that sometimes you can glamor people – or try to, at least. What else can vampires do?"

"We can smell one's arousal," Pam said much more animatedly than before, "and as for the glamoring, Chow and I agreed that you are the only human that we have ever encountered that can resist our influence. Probably a result of your telepathy, but it is a valuable trait, especially now. Besides that, our blood has healing properties, so you would be able to heal yourself much like a vampire if you digested some. Our blood also increases one's libido. Not that you'll need that anytime soon." She and Chow laughed, cruelly I thought. _Damn vamp noses!_

She continued, "Each vampire has their own individual powers too."

I gaped. "Y'all have the regular vampire traits and then some? Wow."

"Eric can fly," Pam offered offhandedly. A large grin broke over Eric's face.

"I'll have to try that sometime," he murmured excitedly.

"Cool. But before then, where should Eric sleep? He stayed in the cemetery last night, but is that too much of a hazard in case someone sees him?"

Chow answered, "I will build him a sleeping quarter as soon as possible. Is there anywhere in this house that you would not mind having a trap door?"

Uh, way to put me on the spot, Chow! I thought it over. It was just a trap door anyways, it's not like anyone would ever see it. And if building one meant Eric didn't have to sleep in the icky graveyard every night I was all for it, especially when I was being way too generously reimbursed. Only problem was, where would his super duper secret lair go? It'd have to be in a dark place, like a closet.

"Eric, would you be okay having your sleeping quarter being underneath my bedroom closet?" I asked, noticing he hadn't participated in the conversation except for when he found out about his extracurricular flying capabilities.

"If you are okay with the arrangement, then I am too," he responded simply. I nodded my approval at Chow.

"Does he need a coffin?" I hated talking about Eric like he wasn't in the room, but I would have asked him if he knew the answers. He didn't seem to upset about it though, his leftover smile from discovering he could fly still plastered on his face.

Pam thought for a second, and then said, "He does not need one, as you figured out last night, but most vampires prefer to have one. Eric does keep one at Fangtasia, but that is in a top secret room, not a hole in the floor. I myself have an arrangement much like the one you're proposing at my own home, and I do not have a coffin down there, only pillows. It is Eric's choice."

"I think I could manage on pillows and a comfy blanket," Eric responded, looking at the quilt. I held back a snigger. He _really _liked that one. "If that's not too much trouble, Sookie."

"Nope, no trouble at all. So, I went out and bought weapons to use against vampires. But now witches are the biggest threat. Are there any anti-witch guns or weapons?"

"That's a good question," Chow said appreciatively. It was the first decent thing he said all night, even though I didn't need his damn approval. "Do you have a gun?"

I shook my head mournfully. "No, I really should though."

"I will loan you a shotgun. Some of the witches are Weres … they change into werewolves. A regular bullet wouldn't hurt them necessarily, but a silver bullet would. I will give you both when I bring the gun and supplies to make Eric's resting place." Seemed like Chow was a regular Mr. Fix-It when he wasn't busy threatening women.

"If these witches are so damn powerful, why can't they cast a spell and find him, like on a witch GPS or something?"

"They can't find anything of his to cast the spell with; they cannot enter his daytime resting place to find an article of clothing or a piece of hair that bear his scent, and there isn't a single human with Eric's blood in her," Pam explained.

"In my opinion, such a spell would not work since we are dead," Chow added, evidently feeling the need to chip in. _Well, Chow, in my opinion, your opinion means jack shit because you haven't exactly proven yourself to be very knowledgeable about both witches and their crazy spells. But hey, that's just me._

"Okay, I ran out of questions," I said, leaning back into the couch. Damn vampires should just come with instructions manuals. At this point I was just waiting for Pam to tell me Eric can't eat after midnight…which would prove difficult, but whatever. I was seriously overwhelmed.

"Finally," Eric muttered jokingly under his breath, but that didn't mean Pam and Chow didn't hear it. They laughed appreciatively. Suck ups.

"Wait, I just thought of another one!" Eric groaned jokingly. I kicked him, harder than I would have kicked anyone else; I knew he could take it. "It's important."

Pam rolled her eyes. "Yes, we can control when our fangs come out, but they always do when we're aroused or excited or angry."

I blushed. Which one of those adjectives had Eric been feeling last night? "Uh, this one was about Eric, actually." Now I had their attention, especially Eric's. Pam nodded.

"Well, what about him? You said he was a thousand years old. When did he make you? What's he like normally?"

Pam and Chow looked at each other and laughed. Eric looked affronted.

"Tell me about me!" Eric ordered, and Pam and Chow stopped their titters. Eric smiled a little, acknowledging the absurdity of his statement.

"Eric, you are over a thousand years old. You were a Swedish Viking when you were turned, a great warrior chosen for immortality based on the strength of your fighting skills. Even to this day you have a renowned reputation of being a fierce fighter, a fair ruler, an intelligent businessman…and a great lover, as you probably deduced. You are the Sheriff of Area Five, a title of great respect. There are five areas in Louisiana, and the only vampire higher than you is the queen of Louisiana, Sophie-Anne Leclerq. Right now Chow and I are handling your duties and pretending that you are fine. You should not worry about Fangtasia. You turned me when you were in England during the 19th century. You drive a red Corvette, and it's the great love of your life. You can speak over thirty different languages, Old Swedish being your native."

Eric looked stunned. Even though he apparently was this brilliant, thousand year-old Viking sex god warrior vampire, you could have knocked him over just by blowing on him. Shocked silence saturated the room.

I could tell he was curious and mystified, and probably wanted to talk vampire business; if I was confused, then Eric was feeling that times a million. I said as much and excused myself—and was a little disappointed when Eric nonchalantly released my ankles once I stood up—and took a quick shower upstairs. I slipped on an old pair of black sweatpants and a white long sleeved shirt, not caring about dressing up for my guests.

When I came back down, the three vampires were in the kitchen drinking TrueBloods. They were talking softly, and I didn't want to interrupt so I started a fire in the fireplace. Last week Jason had very thoughtfully brought over some firewood that he had made from a tree that he and the construction crew had to remove, and since I didn't usually have logs to burn I decided to use them on special occasions like tonight.

Once I finally got a flame going, Pam and Chow left, with Chow professing to return tomorrow with the promised supplies. Pam had walked over and handed me a blood-red Fangtasia business card – "Here is my contact information. Call my cell phone first. I don't want to risk anything happening with Fangtasia's phone, the witches might have tampered with it. You can still call that too, of course, if it's an emergency. Chow's cell is written on the back. We have your number. We know where you live. We will be in touch."

"How are you dealing with all of this?" I asked when Eric shambled over to where I was sitting in front of the fireplace. I was proud of the way he was handling this mess; he seemed to be adjusting to it better than I would have. He wasn't entirely like the confused and scared Eric I had met last night. "I mean—it's like you're this big secret Christmas present they're trying to hide under the bed, me being the bed."

"I am glad that they are afraid enough of me to take good care of me."

"Huh," I said intelligently. Eric was proving himself to be very capable of surprising me.

"I must be a frightening person when I am myself. Or perhaps I inspire so much loyalty through my good works and kind way."

"Your guess is as good as mine, _Master _Eric," I laughed, expecting him to laugh with me. Instead, he just gazed at me with blazing eyes. I would have liked to have known what he was thinking right there, because his expression was unreadable, unfamiliar.

I averted my eyes and grabbed Eric's quilt—funny how I was thinking of it like that—and placed it on the floor. I rolled over on my stomach and relaxed for the first time all day.

"That's truly hideous," Eric said suddenly, peering down at the blanket.

I laughed, "That's what my Gran always said; she called it the baby spit-up blanket. She used to hate seeing it in the house. That's why it was in my car, actually."

"Where is she now?"

"I like to think she's in Heaven, but she's physically located over in the cemetery. She passed on four months ago."

"Adele Stackhouse?" I turned to stare at Eric. Now how would he know that?

"I saw her gravestone," he said hesitatingly, "while I was in the cemetery. She died September 24th, if I remember."

I nodded, not trusting myself with speaking. I still got a little teary-eyed whenever I thought of Gran; she was my grandmother, my mother, my sister, and my friend. And now she was gone. I wondered what Gran would have thought of Eric; she probably would have asked him if he was alive during the Civil War or tried to whip up different blood concoctions for him to drink while he was a guest at our house.

Knowing Eric had visited her grave and remembered her formed a knot in my throat.

"Your parents died before she did," Eric murmured, now lying on his stomach and propped up on his elbows so we could talk. He was a little closer than I was used to, but it felt comforting. I really had missed having someone to talk to in the house. He half turned to toss the quilt over both of us.

"They died when I was ten, driving home during a flash flood. My Gran took me and my brother in and raised us on her own."

Eric inched more towards me. "Tell me about your life," he said unexpectedly.

"Well, growing up telepathic wasn't as exciting as it sounds…exhausting would have been a better adjective. I hated school more than other kids, only I learned not to tell anyone about my problem. When I was little, and didn't know that not everyone could read minds like I could, I didn't conceal it. I'd finish people's thoughts, not their sentences. Once the neighbors started talking, my parents whisked me away to anyone with a diploma on their wall—teachers, doctors, therapists, psychoanalysts, psychologists, radiologists even. I must have had my eyes and ears and nostrils tested every two months, seems like, and brain scans…my parents paid through the nose. Instead of family fishing trips or picnics, it was always 'let's go in the car and drive to one of Sookie's appointments.' My parents didn't understand me; they thought that it was their fault somehow … like they were somehow responsible for my telepathy. They, and all of the other doctors, just attributed it to my being very perceptive and adept at decoding body language, and I let them because it was easier that way."

I paused. This was the most I'd ever talked about my telepathy, to anyone, ever. But unlike the doctors, Eric wasn't taking notes or refusing to look me in the eye; he was peering down at me, an unreadable expression on his face.

I continued, "I just feel guilty that Jason got roped into it. When he was really little, he thought it was cool, like I had a superpower like his favorite comic book characters. He was jealous, even. Then when kids wised up and started making fun of me, he'd get teased too. Then he learned that kids shut up when they're getting beat up, but luckily he was a muscular guy so he didn't lose too often. He's okay with it, I think, but we don't really talk about it."

"What did your Gran think?"

"Gran accepted it too. There were times when she'd ask me to 'fish around' and 'keep an ear open.' Jason does that too sometimes, that's how I can tell if he's serious with a girl. But when I moved in with Gran, she didn't haul me to the doctors' offices and she didn't make me feel guilty about staying home instead of going to parties or going on dates."

"That's … is that why you have not slept with a man? Because you can hear his thoughts? That must be … intimidating and strange."

I stared into the fire for a while, watching the embers dance. I had never really discussed my lack of a love life with anyone before, even Gran. "Yeah, I guess. If I try to act like other girls and ask the guy if he thinks my butt looks fat, I would know the answer whether I wanted to or not. Gets even worse with the more sexual the situation gets. You can't even _imagine_ what some guys think, even nice ones like the mayor or the school principal!"

"I wouldn't want to. I especially wouldn't want to know what members of the opposite sex were thinking of me." _Well, Eric, from what I've heard, it wouldn't be as bad as you'd think. Especially when you have a thousand years to sharpen all the tools in your sexual toolbox_. _Dawn sure looked like she didn't have any bad thoughts about you running through her head ... or not the kind of bad types you're thinking of…or any coherent thoughts at all. Nope, stop that Sookie. You replay that clip enough already._

"It's okay though, everyone just sees me as 'Crazy Sookie' because of my disability. The only guys that paid special attention to me did so because they thought I'd be desperate or they made a bet with their friends. And of course I knew why and that made it even worse."

"It's not a disability, Sookie. You have a gift," Eric said softly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that our shoulders almost touching and his hair was blended in with mine. We had the same color hair; I couldn't tell where mine stopped and his began.

"Gift. Right." I could feel the corners of my mouth turn down.

"It makes you different from other humans."

"You're telling me."

"… Yes, I am aware of that."

Now I turned to look at Eric, who was modeling a gorgeous puzzled expression. I giggled, forgetting how he wasn't quite up-to-date with modern lingo. Excuse me, language.

"I wasn't lying before when I said that was the only time I read your thoughts, Eric. That's why I asked you your opinion of me and held your feet last night, because touching someone usually makes them more readable…hence the virgin thing. I haven't been able to read your thoughts or Pam's and Chow's," I explained.

"I will say this as many times as I need to, Sookie: I trust you," he said, gazing penetratingly at me.

"Whaddya say we watch the movie adaptation of your favorite book?" I said, recovering swiftly. Eric agreed, although he warned me that he would make plenty of jokes during the movie. I told him to bring it on, and he looked confused for a bit before I clarified and said I looked forward to hearing what he had to say.

I asked Eric if he wanted another TrueBlood, and he said sure. I got up and walked to the kitchen, intent on microwaving some popcorn. I had to think about it for a couple seconds when I wondered if I could save time and microwave the popcorn with the TrueBlood. I decided not to try it though—I didn't want to risk getting bloody popcorn. I snorted at the thought.

I had a lot of fun watching the movie with Eric, something I knew would happen ever since the title came on the screen and Eric stated that from now on, whenever something was pathetic we should say it was "twilight." It had been a while since I had sat down and watched a movie with someone. And the movie wasn't as bad as I thought it would be—although Eric certainly didn't feel the same way. I decided Eric was hotter than the lead vampire and the actor that portrayed him, but I kept that tidbit to myself.

Around midnight I bade Eric good night and left him with the television remote downstairs. From time to time I could hear his laugh echo all the way into my room, and instead of being annoyed by it, I was comforted by it. I found it incredibly reassuring having someone else in the house.

Even so I still had trouble falling asleep. It dawned on me that I was in charge of keeping Eric in a skewed vampire version of the witness protection program. No one in the world—well, except for Chow and Pam—knew where this really important Viking Sheriff was.

Which was, sliding into my bed.

I didn't want to open my eyes and have a conversation with him. I was just at the cusp between waking and dreaming. Last night, when I invited him in the bed, I had thought it was a one-time only thing – because I thought having Eric over was a one-time only thing. And even though I didn't mind it at all, tonight didn't feel as, well, neutral having him in bed with me. Especially now that he had taken off his clothes and was snuggled up against me in the boxers I had picked out for him. And especially now that I knew he was an extremely competent sexual lover whose thoughts I could not read.

"Cold?" I murmured without opening my eyes.

"Um-hum," he whispered into my ear. I was on my side, so comfortable that a supposed vampire sex symbol could not have persuaded me to move, and he was on his side spooning me. He put an arm across my waist and I tensed, but he relaxed completely and I did too, after a moment. Next thing I knew I was dead to the world.

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**Longest chapter to date! Whaddyua think? Review for a preview!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hiya folks! Sorry to be posting this a little later than expected. Better late than never? **

**So I guess lot of people liked the "twilight" expression**** as being a synonym for "pathetic." Morecks87 came up with an even better one: from now on "Northman" is another term for "awesome." And ya know what? You're all incredibly Northman! ****Thanks for reading and being the cause of all the giddy smiles I wear whenever I check my email. I've already received more reviews and alerts on this story than my other stories! **

**Thanks to nycsnowbird for setting me on the grammar path of righteousness—seriously … thanks!—and to chiisai-kitty for looking over this and encouraging me and my bizarro metaphors and imagery. **

**Lastly, thanks to Charlaine Harris for coming up with SVM and letting me play with her characters. I think it'd be pretty cool to live in her mind … especially because then I'd know what happens in **_**Dead in the Family**_**!!**

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I awoke the next morning with a smile on my face … one that evaporated once I looked at the clock and saw that I had less than an hour before I was due at Merlotte's.

I dressed and ate at a speed that Eric would have been proud of. But as soon as I was out the door and greeting the cemetery I realized that there was a very real possibility that I would come home after Eric woke up. I didn't know if he had sat on the porch steps yesterday because he didn't want to be impolite or because the door was locked, but I did know that I didn't want him to be in that same position again for the second day in the row. It wasn't fair for him to be that discombobulated about both his past and his present.

Sprinting back inside and finding a pen and a Post-it note was easy, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to address it to Eric or make it clear that I had a vampire guest staying with me. After using up some precious time, I finally came up with something:

_Jason, _

_Please__ make yourself at home. I left your favorite food in the fridge, so take as much as you need. You know I don't like it anyway :) I'll probably be back soon after you come around. Don't wait outside like last time_—_it's your home too._

_Be safe,_

_Sookie._

There. Eric would probably be able to read between the lines. I stuck the paper on the unlocked back door, satisfied with my quick thinking. As I drove to Merlotte's, a simple thought caused me to severely test my brakes and start swearing like a pirate that just hit himself on the head with an oar in front of his salty sailor friends: can Eric even read?

I was so tempted to pull an illegal U-turn and bolt back home, but I was already late for my shift. Eric would just have to wing it. Besides, he could speak English fluently—although he sometimes missed certain idioms—and that apparently wasn't even his first language, so he'd probably be fine. Probably. Anyways, I should just be grateful that he can speak English; I don't know what I would have done if I had gotten out of the car and this fangy vampire started blabbing in a foreign language to me … maybe run away or drive home like I probably should have in the first place.

I bypassed Sam at the bar and hurried into the employee room without meeting his gaze, hoping he wouldn't comment on my extreme lateness. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him give me a weird look, but that just made me walk even faster because Sam was a stickler for timeliness. It wasn't until I was taking someone's order and saw in the mirror that he was fixated with my neck that I realized that he probably could smell the vampire on me—what if a keen sense of smell was some shifter power? Crap, I wished I had asked Pam what the hell a shifter even was. Hah, and here I was thinking I had to avoid Sam just because I was a few minutes late…

The rest of the day was uneventful yet completely stressful, until I went on my break and walked out to get the granola bar I had stupidly left in the car. In my haste to start work earlier I had somehow overlooked an old enemy of mine: Eric's wanted poster that was posted directly across from the front door. _Shit_.

I forgot all about the Quaker Oats man roasting in my car and scurried to the employee room to give myself a mini pep talk; once my heart beat slowed down I made up my mind that I would casually ask Arlene about when that sign was posted, and by whom. I would have talked to Sam about it, but I didn't want him to put two and two together, with me smelling like a vampire and then asking questions about a poster. Granted, it didn't say Eric was a vampire, but I was pretty sure Sam smelled a vampire on me, and chances were he would have detected that the person with the poster was a witch and figured something was up. _Right, because everyone knows something's wrong when a witch is hanging up wanted signs_._ My life is such a mess right now._

Thankfully Arlene had been here when the witches came; well, to her, "the lady who looked like a human toothpick and was about as attractive as one" (was there such a thing as a human toothpick? Can't think about that now) and "her much more handsome brother." Arlene said they called themselves Marnie and Mark Stonebrook—really? _That's_ what she picked for a fake name? I guess that was normal for her, considering her name was _Hallow_—and said they were looking for their friend and were so desperate they travelled all the way out to Bon Temps just in case. I wished I had thought to ask Chow what Hallow looked like, but I contented myself with the thought that he was supposed to stop by and build Eric his hidey hole. Even so, there was no doubt in my mind—thanks to Arlene's mind—that the woman was Hallow, and maybe the guy was her real brother. I didn't know why they had thought to come all the way out to such a backwater town like Bon Temps, but whether it was a wild guess or plain instinct or—please, God, no—some witch voodoo magic, they certainly had reason to do so.

A breezy "Hey, Sookie" shook me out of my thoughts, and Dawn—_Dawn!_—was standing expectantly in front of me. "You called?"

I nodded. I couldn't talk. Dawn had poorly concealed marks on her neck; she had tried to cover it up with makeup but the harsh sunlight streaming in through the windows effectively undid all of her efforts. _Shit. Shit. Had Eric snuck off and fed from her? Is he just faking the amnesia thing? Is she in on this whole 'let's fool the naïve waitress' hoax? I'm just a waitress but I'd say he did a good job, especially if he managed to convince his two closest vampire buddies, one of whom was his child. Wait, what if they had been in on it too? _

"Oh, you found out about Jason and me right? Fuck, I knew I should have spent more time with my concealer," Dawn laughed, throwing her head back to show off her hickies. I peeked into her mind and saw—strangely enough—that Jason had in fact been responsible for her love bites … that had occurred during their lovemaking. Ick. But at least she was telling the truth.

I slapped on a nervous smile and nodded my head. "Just looking out for you, that's all. We gotta stick together us, girls."

She laughed. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Figured you just wanted to give me some tips since you're his sister and all. Sorry I didn't call back sooner, but I spent the past couple days at his house. Although I might say that I don't think I really need your tips, if you know what I mean – he's already asked me to be his number one girl!"

God, she was so far off I couldn't even laugh about it. I forced myself to look into her head and see that she was telling the truth once again. She was. About everything. I was so tempted to just believe her like a normal person in the future, but I knew that wouldn't be good enough.

"Good for you! I'm so happy for you guys, Dawn. Do you know where Jason is? I want to congratulate him," I said while giving her a quick hug. I'd have squealed, but she might have thought that was overkill. Actually, with the way she had been thinking and acting, she probably would have squealed _and_ jumped up and down_ and_ start gushing about Jason's sex skills. Didn't need to encourage her.

"Yeah, he dropped me off. Said he had to take a leak, though, so I'd check the bathroom. Anyways, Sam's looking at us, so I'm going to get to work." Dawn sauntered away and I headed for the bathrooms, still refusing to make eye contact with Sam as I walked past the bar.

Fortunately, I caught Jason as he was coming out of the bathroom—wiping his hands on his jeans, I might add, so no hug for him.

He smiled a lopsided grin when he saw me and said, "Hey, Sooks! I was wondering if you were working today. I was just thinkin' about going over to your house to watch some football."

"You can't," I spat out without thinking, and Jason gave me a well-deserved odd look. He lived in our parent's old house, and Gran had actually bequeathed me my house and some land, but we had never disallowed the other into our homes.

"I'm, um, redecorating. Cleaning up and stuff. It's real messy, everything's out of place. In fact, I had to unplug the TV … and the DVD player … and the, the fridge … and, uh, the stereo … while working on everything," I added quickly. Jason nodded and seemed to accept it, unnecessarily proving that he was about as quick as a turtle on Prozac trying to swim in peanut butter.

"Oh, okay. You ladies sure are uptight about your housework. Dawn's been up my ass asking me to take down my _Sports Illustrated_ swimsuit calendar collection from my bedroom walls. She doesn't get that they're _collectibles._ Crazy, right?" Man, was I glad that Jason apparently was a few months behind on paying his brain bill and his IQ credit card had been canceled!

"Right. Yeah, housecleaning … it's a girl thing. You wouldn't understand. But, uh, once I straighten things out I'll call you and we can have a mini housewarming party or something, watch some sports. I'll even make nachos."

"Sounds great, just give me a call. Listen, I gotta run, I left Hoyt in charge of the work crew. But good luck with everything," he replied, affectionately patting me on the top of head while I did my best not to cringe at his still-moist fingers. Too bad you can't really put Purell on your hair.

Even though Dawn had come in to replace me, the bar was so busy that I stayed behind for an extra fifteen minutes like Sam had asked me to. Once I agreed he thanked me and started to say something else but I feigned having a ketchup emergency and scampered off to my tables, not wanting to play a Sookie-themed edition of Twenty Questions with him.

Soon the seemingly endless stream of bar patrons evaporated and I was able to slip out. I forced my beat-up car function like a rocket and raced home, not wanting to leave Eric alone longer than I needed to.

It didn't matter though—as soon as I pulled into my driveway I spotted an unfamiliar black pickup truck lounging where I usually parked my car.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

**Just a heads up, I know this chapter ends at cliffy but I'm still working on the next chapter, so no previews/promised two-day posting spree. I'll try and post ASAP and not be too irritating, but no promises. It's just that I'm currently in the middle of midterm week and need to focus on being a student for a bit! It's a shame that colleges admit students based on their grades and admissions essays but I can't send in my fanfiction stories. Real life sucks more than a horny vampire! :K**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry I didn't respond to your reviews—I did appreciate and look at them (often on multiple occasions!) and love you all for them, but I figured I could use the time to write the chapter. Midterms were meh, but they're over. Thank you for being so understanding! 8K words for you, in addition to the loads of hugs and kisses I already send your way.**

**This is for J. D. Salinger, an author I would have liked to call up on the phone and be terrific friends with. May you finally rest in the peace and solitude that you've desired for the past fifty years. **

**And I bet you're anxious to find out the owner of the suspicious truck, but before then I have to thank my beta chiisai-kitty, for being a great beta and an even better pimp, LOL. **

**And you know the drill: these characters aren't mine.**

**-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_**

I slammed on the brakes, not even caring that I probably just made a huge tire skid mark in my already beat up driveway. After the horrific screech Eric came rushing out of the house, still wearing his boxers from last night. His skin, and his boxers, not that I was looking, were sprinkled with dirt. Strangely enough, I wasn't disgusted by it.

I hurriedly turned off the car, not even realizing it was still in 'drive,' and jumped out of my door to hurl myself into the very capable arms of Eric.

"Sookie, Sookie it's okay! It's Chow! It's just Chow, I promise," he murmured soothingly, running his hands up and down the sides of my arms. "Chow, show yourself NOW!"

Chow zoomed out too, and after I stared at him to ensure he wasn't a hallucination I realized that there was a red Fangtasia bumper sticker on the back of the truck. _Oh._

"See, Chow just came over to build my resting place and drop off some blood. I like his blood better than your fake blood. Sorry."

"It's alright. God, it's alright. You're alright," I cried, throwing my arms around Eric's neck even though he was half naked and fully dirty. He hugged me back, pressing me into his chest. I could smell the earth on him, but I didn't care. "I thought the witches got you."

"No, I'm fine. Everything's fine," he murmured, running his fingers through my ponytail.

"I am sorry I did not reveal myself sooner. I thought yesterday I made it perfectly clear that I would stop by and drop off the blood and build Eric's resting place. But I … apologize … for upsetting you," Chow called from the porch, his voice becoming lower and less audible with his last sentence. Even though my face was currently in its new favorite place in the whole wide world, I guessed Eric had shot Chow a look and forced him to apologize. I didn't even care at this point.

I pulled back, trying to wipe away my tears. It was no use, because I was crying all over Eric's chest and you don't need to have vampire senses to tell when someone is crying on your bare skin. Eric hesitated, and after a couple long seconds he wiped away the tears with his thumb. He was fretting over me so much you'd think that I was the amnesiac thousand-year old vampire.

"Okay, so I've filled my daily quota of being scared out of my mind, so let's go inside," I joked after a couple seconds, wanting to direct the attention away from me and my human crying.

"But I have dirtied your uniform," Eric stated, and I barked out another laugh.

"That's what washing machines are for, don't worry about it. So, you liked Chow's blood better than mine? I'm so jealous," I teased, reverting back to my habit of always cracking jokes whenever I felt really emotional.

Eric, who had been in the process of moving an arm around my trembling shoulder, haled his movement, his fingers gripping my shoulder tightly. After a moment had passed he resumed his actions and brought me closer to him, his hand tucked around me in a kind of sideways half-hug. I thought it was weird, but then chalked it up to him not knowing if I'd welcome his touch, which I totally did. I kicked the car door shut and slipped an arm around Eric's waist, leaning on him for support. He still didn't say anything.

Sometime during our exchange Chow had wandered off into the house, which I liked. I could hear some rapid-fire sawing going on upstairs, but I didn't want to investigate. I wanted to stay in Eric's arms.

On the kitchen table, next to the dirty cup and plate I used for breakfast, proudly stood a white coffee mug with Bugs Bunny's happy cartoon face on one side. It was my favorite mug, and it was currently filled halfway with blood.

"Ah, so this is the hospital gunk, right?" I asked while praying that the blood wouldn't stain the pristine white mug, or the tiled counter that the opened blood packet was oozing on. But I thought it was cute that Eric had wanted to eat his "meal" in the same seat that I had eaten breakfast in.

"It came in a pouch. Chow brought a small portable refrigerator over, which I put in your big stationary refrigerator. He even showed me how to microwave the blood. I can microwave something for you now, if you want," Eric explained excitedly.

"Can you now?" I asked distractedly, striding over to the fridge. I knew Eric was a vampire, but it was spooky that he was drinking actual human blood in an innocent kitchen mug, like it was just coffee or tea. There was a red _cooler _that looked like the one Jason used for football tryouts back when he was in high school. But this one somehow looked more sinister than his—probably because it was teeming with blood packets, not water bottles and ice. And the gun and the packaged bullets Chow had promised were randomly lying on top of the blood bags. Unless this was a special kind of James Bond gun, then it probably didn't need to be refrigerated. Maybe Chow was just multi-tasking and forgot about the gun. Although really, who forgets about a gun that they stored in a cooler full of blood?

I poured myself a glass of lemonade so I could have something to drink while Eric was draining his human blood. He asked me about work, which reminded me of the poster and Sam, so I told Eric to follow me and headed up the stairs. I wished Pam was here instead of Chow—although she didn't seem like the type to willingly construct a trap door in my bedroom closet—because she seemed to have more knowledge about the witches and, frankly, I liked and oddly trusted her more. But Chow would have to do.

He was kneeling with his back to us, his right arm a legitimate blur as he sawed through the floor. He was wearing a pair of jeans and another black vest, this one with purple stitching; odd attire for a construction worker, but that was just me. He didn't bother turning around, even though I knew he heard our footsteps.

"Chow," Eric called out over the noise, and he instantly stopped and looked over his shoulder at us. I quickly explained about the poster I had seen and what Arlene said the two people who hung it up looked like and how Sam reacted when he saw me.

"Is that bad?" Eric asked as soon as I was done.

Chow thought about it, which, in my opinion, pretty much answered Eric's question. Finally my vampire frenemy replied, "It is not what I would have liked, but it is manageable. I would not worry too much about the shifter; his inferior senses are only able to tell him that you have been in the presence of vampire. However, the descriptions of Hallow and her brother are fairly accurate and there is a chance that they might come back to check, although I cannot figure out why they would come to such a … quaint … town like Bon Temps."

While Chow was bashing my birthplace, I stared at my closet. Although this wasn't the first time, I thanked God that I had a spacious walk-in closet—only now it was because the space easily housed the massive rectangular cut-out that Chow was working on. I was surprised that the wood shavings weren't scattered on the floor or on the clothing that Chow had smushed to one side of the closet. Gee, maybe once Eric got his memory back he could place Chow in charge of a vampire construction company.

Eric nudged my ribs, and I looked up to see Chow impatiently staring at me. "Sorry, what?" I asked.

"I said, is there anything wrong with my trap door that you've been eyeballing?"

That Chow. Even Eric had better manners, and he was a freakin' amnesiac. "No, I was just impressed that you haven't gotten anything on my clothes … so yeah, nice work with that."

Instead of thanking me, Chow smoothly replied, "Didn't want to get your clothes dirtier than the ones you're wearing."

I scowled. Eric already felt guilty about that, in addition to having me house him, so thanks for making your master feel better, Chow!

Eric started to apologize again but I cut him off by saying sharply, "As I said before, it is no big deal. How Eric got my shirt dirty is more valuable to me than the simple fact that he did it. It'll wash off with some soap and water."

"As will the dirt still caked on Eric's body. Perhaps you could save time and the environment by washing both of them together at the same time, in the same room, with the same soap and water?" Chow smirked.

Fucking Chow. I loathed how he always tried to put me on the spot and make me feel as awkward as possible. Hell, Eric had been running around practically naked this entire time and the fully clothed Chow didn't even acknowledge it! _Even though I did in my mind. A lot._

"Chow, stop stalling and finish constructing my resting place. Get back to work," Eric seethed in that ultra-domineering voice I was used to hearing whenever there were other vampires around. Chow nodded and started sawing without another word or look. Thanks to his big fat vampire mouth, he probably could have sawed through the suffocating sexual tension in the room too.

"I apologize for my actions and also for Chow's. But you should change out of your stained clothing and take a shower," Eric murmured as he led me out of the room.

"Really, Eric, you're just seeing my top on a really good day. Sometimes I'll come home and my shirt will have so many stains on it you'd think that the customers ate their food off of me instead of their plates. I'm not worried about it, so you shouldn't be either," I replied, wanting to make him feel less anxious about the state of my shirt.

We stopped in front of the bathroom, Eric obviously waiting for me to go in. But I didn't want to have to go back into my bedroom and pick out my clothes while Chow was working on my closet.

"Uh," I said intelligently, "You know what? I'm not really in a showering mood, but I bet you are. Why don't you take one—you're dirtier than I am. Yeah. You go and get all washed up, and I'll come in with your towel once you've started."

Eric was staring hard at me, and I wanted to smack myself multiple times for all of the sexual-sounding statements I had managed to squeeze in three short sentences. Ack.

I left and scrambled into Gran's room to pick out a pair of underwear, jeans, and a shirt for Eric. As I reached for the newly-washed red underwear Eric had been wearing when we first met, I reflected that as if the words I just uttered weren't implicating enough, here I was picking out his clothes like I was his girlfriend! Oh lordy.

Blushing like I was being paid to, I stalked back to the bathroom. Eric had moved inside and was reaching over to turn the water on with his back—a very muscular and Herculean back—and butt—a very firm and delicious butt even with its annoying fabric layer—to me. He was still wearing his boxers, but boy oh boy did that not matter! For whatever reason, his vampire senses hadn't announced my presence, and Eric bent over even more. I immediately buried my face in his clothes so I wouldn't make an audible moan—but I just concealed the lower half of my face. Hey, I'm only human! However, I forced myself to shut my eyes when Eric straightened and reached up to adjust the shower nozzle, introducing his rippling back muscles to me. I knew if I saw any more skin I would definitely make a noise. And not the kind of noise that a man I've only known for two days should hear coming from my awestruck mouth.

"Sookie?"

I popped open my eyes, instantly drawn to the magnificent body now directly in front of me that was the cause of the cloud of lust hindering my sanity. Eric had walked over and placed his hands on my shoulders. I swallowed hard and peered up into his blue eyes, willing myself not to look down at his lower body … or in front of me at his stiff nipples … or to the right or left at his lifeguard-esque pecs … I bit my lip. Hard.

"Sookie, are you all right?" Eric asked. I nodded and then realized that most of my face was on his underwear, which of course happened to be stacked on top of the pile of his clothes that I was currently vacuuming with my mouth. Oh. My. God. I'd rather have Eric sniff my virginity any day. But Pam said he could also smell my arousal! Shit! And what if Chow could smell my arousal too?! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

"Here are your clothes," I whispered, shoving the offending articles at him awkwardly before turning on my heel and starting to march down the hall.

Eric grabbed my hand, halting me in my footsteps and bringing me closer to him so I was in the same gloriously terrifying position as before. "Are you okay, Sookie? Have I done anything wrong?" _No, you've done EVERYTHING right. Sigh._

"Yes, Sookie, is everything okay?" Chow asked innocently from behind me. I shrieked and jumped around in fright, slipping and falling onto Eric, who grabbed my hips to steady me and miraculously didn't fall.

My butt was right by … and it felt … NO, don't you DARE think about THAT, missy.

Once again, I wearily guessed Eric was shooting a look at Chow, who quickly put on his poker face and added, "All done with your resting place, Master."

Eric hadn't released me from being pressed up against him, and I could feel his body vibrating as he replied curtly, "Very well, Chow. That is all. You can leave now."

Chow nodded and zoomed down the hall. After a few seconds I could hear the faint sounds of his truck driving down the driveway.

Then I sneezed. I _fucking_ sneezed. In my hands. I had snot and spit and booger juice all over my hands while Eric was holding me _thisclose_ to his perfect, nearly naked body. He had grabbed me tighter as I was sneezing; he probably didn't even know what a sneeze was and just reacted to me randomly jerking my body and making a strange, high-pitched noise. God, I was such a mess right now. I wanted to run into my room and lock myself in Eric's new hidey hole. Forever.

"Okay, so, um, I'm hungry. I mean, I'm gonna go eat dinner," I squealed, not trusting myself to turn around. Eric let go and I ran, literally ran, downstairs to the kitchen, wiped my hands, and then flopped on the couch and stayed there with my face sandwiched between the sofa cushions until I heard Eric's shower running.

Once I recovered from my severe and almost fatal case of mortification, I got up and shuffled over to the fridge. The first thing I saw was the cooler of blood for Eric. I closed my eyes and reopened them, only to make eye contact with the bright yellow package of hot dogs that was resting comfortably next to the cooler (really, how had I missed that before? Not cool, eyes, not cool).

I slammed the refrigerator door shut and poured myself a bowl of cereal, not even bothering to fetch the milk carton from the fridge. With each crunch of dry Special K I came up with another reason of how fantastic Eric was: I couldn't read his mind all the time, even when I touched him … he actually thought my telepathy was cool … he protected me from other vampires … he made me laugh … he trusted me more than his vampire child … our hair was the same color … he liked listening to what I had to say … he smelled really good even when covered in graveyard dirt … he knows how to use a microwave … so he's a quick learner … he was good at snuggling … he doesn't like _Twilight_ … his eyes are so vibrant every painter would kill to have a paint color in Eric Northman Blue … technically he's kind of a virgin so that would make me feel less self-conscious … he has big feet … his body was made to be worshipped, preferably by me … _wait,_ _what_???

Once I realized that I was compiling reasons why I should have sex with Eric (although the microwave and _Twilight_ ones weren't necessarily the most important, or relevant, requirements), I choked on my spoonful of cereal in shock, instantly sending it down the wrong pipe. I started coughing, loudly. I needed a drink. I knew I should have just taken the milk out!

I managed to take two steps towards the fridge before Eric zoomed down the stairs, wearing nothing but a navy blue bath towel that wasn't even tucked in place but held upright only by Eric's hand. Add another item to the Why Sookie Should Have Sex With Eric list: even when I'm choking, all I can think about is how hot Eric is. That should count for something.

"What, Sookie? What's wrong?" Eric asked frantically.

I mimed drinking something, and he zoomed over to the fridge and back. He had grabbed a bottle of beer that I usually kept stocked for Jason, and he held it out to me, expecting that I'd be able to take the cap off by myself. I shook my head and pointed at him and mimed for him to open it with his vampire strength. He looked confused, and I decided it'd be better if I just sprinted over to the kitchen sink to stick my head under the faucet for water.

Eric suddenly bit the top of the beer bottle off just like he was biting a lollipop, spitting the cap and most of the glass onto my kitchen table. Then he held my head back and carefully tipped the beer bottle right above my mouth, pouring the liquid down my throat as he tried not to touch the jagged top with my vibrating lips. As I gulped mercifully, I could only think, _'WTF? Put this on the cons side: Eric will have glass in his mouth for the rest of the night. There, problem solved. But … the guy ate part of a glass beer bottle to stop you from choking. And that definitely goes on the pros side because it's chivalrous in a really deformed way. Okay, consider the problem unsolved.'_

I motioned for Eric to stop before I drowned, and he did. I coughed a couple more times and he looked poised to give me more beer, but then I wheezed, "I'm good. Just give me a minute." He nodded and readjusted his towel. _Make that two minutes now._

Once I caught my breath, I gratefully said, "Eric, thank you so, so much for helping me. But what about the glass? Are you okay?"

"I swallowed it," he responded nonchalantly. My eyes bugged. "I'll be fine, I think."_But how's the glass going to come out? Vampires don't go to the bathroom, of that I am definitely sure, since they don't eat … eh, you know what, I don't want to know anymore._

"Um, well, do you want to brush your teeth just in case? Shoot, I've been so rude, I forgot to leave out a spare toothbrush for you! Sorry about that! Wait, do vampires even brush their teeth?" I said, hoping that Eric would somehow know the answer. I wouldn't have asked, but I knew vampires needed their fangs to survive. Maybe they really did take care of their teeth.

Well, this was definitely the second strangest conversation I'd ever had. The number one spot was with Maxine Fortenberry, when she told me she was wearing her first ever thong and now understood why everyone thought it was so uncomfortable—because there was just a string in the front and a little triangle of fabric in the back. Yeah, I had to tell her she was wearing her thong backwards—three times, actually, because everyone but her heard and clearly understood me the first two times I said it over the bar chatter. I still can't look at Maxine Fotenberry in the eye, and that incident occurred over two months ago.

Eric shrugged. "I am not sure, but our teeth and fangs are extremely important. Do you think we should call Pam and ask her?"

"I dunno … she kind of made it seem like that was for emergencies only."

"Sookie, are you saying that the state of my dental hygiene isn't important?" Eric mock-scoffed with a teasing smirk on his face.

"Oh, all right you big vampire bully. I should ask her about shifters anyway, 'cause Chow didn't really explain what they are," I replied, maturely punching him on the arm as I brushed past him to get the Fangtasia business card I had carefully placed on the windowsill by the phone. As a towel-clad Eric clutched his arm in fake pain, I dialed Pam's cell phone number.

"Yes?" Huh, guess someone's daddy didn't teach her good phone skills.

"Hi Pam, it's Sookie Stackhouse. Do vampires brush their teeth?"

Pam burst out laughing, which seemed so uncharacteristic of her that I stopped paying attention to what Eric was doing. "Now that's actually funny. You're the first human to make me laugh in a very long time," she said after a couple of moments. I remained silent, not knowing what to say.

"Wait, are you serious? Oh, but that just makes it even funnier! Chow, Sookie Stackhouse and … Leif … want to know if vampires brush their teeth!" Pam called. Even though I didn't have supersonic vampire hearing like everyone else concerned, I could still hear him cackle. And apparently Eric's vampire Secret Service codename was Leif? I wanted one!!

"No, Sookie, vampires do not brush their teeth," Pam answered. After a pause she deadpanned, "And we do not floss either."

I chuckled at that. I thought vampires didn't brush their teeth, because even the incredibly "twilight" vampires didn't have to in the books, but I just wanted to check, especially because vampires ysed their fangs to eat. I exchanged a sheepish grin with Eric, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Although I do have it on good word that humans should brush their teeth twice a day for two minutes and floss regularly. Do you do that, Sookie Stackhouse?" Pam asked conversationally.

"Um, I guess," I said, "but are you telling me that you actually associate with humans, Pam? Or that you care about my dental hygiene?"

Pam barked out another laugh. "Point. Dear Abby told me about the proper teeth cleaning procedures. Did you know that having white teeth and healthy gums increases your chances of finding a lover? Of course, having white fangs would help too."

"Dear Abby…from the advice column?"

"Yes, are you familiar with her?" Pam asked, like Dear Abby was an actual person that you could go out to lunch with. Err, dinner with, in Pam's case.

"Sure, everyone is, I guess. Listen, while I have you on the phone, what is a shifter, exactly?"

"You mean Chow didn't tell you what a shifter is?" Pam asked, her formerly somewhat cheerful voice sounding almost as pissed as she did last night right after I read Eric's mind.

"He just said that they have an inferior sense of smell," I replied meekly, not really wanting to get him in trouble. Granted, I wasn't his biggest fan, but I didn't want to be a snitch.

"Did he give you the gun and bullets and teach you how to shoot the shotgun?"

"Um … kind of. He left the gun but didn't do anything with it," I confessed.

"CHOW! You're such a human. Go enthrall the vermin, they're getting restless," Pam scolded. It took me a moment to realize she was probably talking about the humans at Fangtasia. Nice. Humans are scum, got it.

In a clearer voice, she said to me, "Since Chow has proved himself to be incapable of listening despite his vampire hearing, I will help you shoot a gun. I think tonight I shall glamor a cop into teaching me, something I have wanted to do since I saw the _Lara Croft: Tomb Raider_ movie but Eric wouldn't stop teasing me about it."

I bit back a laugh and replied, "Okay, Pam." She kind of reminded me of a vampire Angelina Jolie, with her goth-girl attire and full lips and overall badassness. Plus, I could totally see Pam with a vial of blood around her neck, just in case she was hungry and needed a quick snack.

"Now, fortunately, Chow was able to successfully inform me of your discoveries from your workplace. I did a background check on your boss for security purposes, and your boss is a rare type of shifter that can change into any animal he sees. But there are other types of shapeshifters, like weres, that can only shift into a certain animal. Understand?"

"Got it. Thanks for the supernatural creatures 101 lesson. So Sam won't be able to smell Eric on me?"

"No, unless he has come into close contact with Eric, and I don't think he has. He has never come to Fangtasia or other Supe meetings, Supe being shorthand for "supernatural" creatures like vampires and shifters. But he has not revealed himself to be aligned with the witches, besides the fact that he allowed them to hang a sign in his business. You should be fine."

"Okay, thanks again. Anything else I should know?"

"Dear Abby says that the best year-round temperature is a warm heart and a cool head. Goodbye, Sookie Stackhouse. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation."

"If I didn't know any better I'd think that was a fortune cookie saying, Pam," I teased, thinking I was pushing my luck. It was easier to talk to her over the phone than face to face; she seemed to have let her guard down.

"Oh, please," she retorted. I would have bet any amount of money that she rolled her eyes as she said that.

I sniggered, "Okay then. Good night." _Click._

"Who is Dear Abby? If Pam speaks so highly of a human, she must be very important," Eric said as soon as I hung up the phone.

I laughed, "Dear Abby isn't really a person, but more like an advice column in most newspapers or magazines. People write in their problems and Abby helps them."

"Is there a vampire Dear Abby?"

"Huh, I don't know. Maybe."

I hesitatingly glanced at the kitchen table, wondering how to best clean up all the glass, and Eric walked over and said, "Let me, it's my fault and it won't hurt as much."

I nodded and he carelessly scooped the glass shards into his palm and threw them out. I tried my best not to gawk.

Once he finished he turned and said, "You're still wearing your dirty clothes."

"You still haven't put your clothes on," I retorted. _But you don't have to_, _you know._

He smirked. I raised an eyebrow as I said, "I've got a deal for you. I'll keep my clothes on, you put some clothes on, and then we can go checkout your new bed."

"Sure. Chow showed me the blueprints, but I haven't actually seen my resting place in person," Eric replied easily.

I followed him upstairs, and he called, "I'll be right there," as he ducked into the bathroom to put some clothes on.

"Sure thing," I replied as I continued to my bedroom. I only heard the sound of my bare feet tiptoeing down the hall as I waited for him to hear him shut the bathroom door. I never heard it.

Chow had left my closet door closed, and I left it like that. I wanted to see the trap door for the first time with Eric. I sat down on the part of my bed that was directly across from the closet and waited for Eric, wondering what he had thought of my room when he first saw it.

"I'm back," he announced in his new-found jeans and tee shirt, gliding over and taking a seat next to me. I smiled and turned to gaze at the mirror hanging on the door. I could see Eric looking at me in the mirror, his blue eyes seeming bluer once he saw me see him. He waved at my reflection and I laughed.

"Would you like to do the honors?" I asked, nudging Eric and walking over to the closet.

"It's your hidey hole too," he replied, following me.

"All right, put your hand on the knob and we'll open it together. One … two … three!"

The closet looked exactly the same. Chow must have taken the saw and other tools I remembered. There was a small little latch on the floor to open the trap door, but I probably wouldn't have noticed if I didn't know to look for one.

"So much for Narnia," I muttered, and Eric gave me a well-deserved strange look. "Oh, stop that. You'd think it was funny if you could understand all of my brilliantly witty pop culture references."

Eric shrugged and opened the door, peering around inside. "Cover me," he whispered seriously, his eyes twinkling and a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I nodded and crouched down, putting my fingers up like I was holding a gun. Eric's smile grew. He firmly placed his hands on both sides of the rectangular hole and lowered himself in. Lying down, his face was about a foot and a half away from the floor. He called out, "Try closing the door. I want to see if I can open it from the inside."

I obliged, and three seconds later the door swung open and his head popped out. "I find it satisfactory. Chow should be proud of his handiwork," he said, lifting himself out.

"Right. I'll have to remember to tell him that when I call Pam and ask if you guys need to clean your ears."

Eric laughed appreciatively. "Maybe she will know the answer to that question. She does seem to know a lot about humans and their habits."

"Yeah, she certainly knows enough to be a master at verbally bashing us. Wham, bam, thank you Pam."

"Looks like her centuries of practice have paid off," Eric quipped. I burst out laughing; he seemed so different from the scared vampire I picked up the first night or the Sheriff of Area Five that came out whenever someone with fangs was nearby. I liked this Eric the best.

"Well, I wouldn't like humans either if the only ones I interacted with were parasitic fangbangers and naive tourists. She's not really hanging out with the best members of the human race."

"She has hung out with you, has she not?"

I eyed him suspiciously, but he didn't seem like he was making fun of me. "If wanting to dismember me and drink my blood and then asking if I floss count as hanging out, then we're movie-watching, hair-braiding, cookie-baking BFFs."

"What are BFFs?" Eric asked.

"Sorry, it's an acronym for Best Friends Forever."

"Don't you think Pam and I are better equipped to be BFFs because we truly can be BFs for F?"

I giggled. "Oh, okay, you win. But I warn you, respected Viking warrior, you have won this battle but you have not won the war."

"_Yet._ You may beat me with your grasp of the vernacular and its queer phrases, but I can fly, so I am better equipped to emerge victorious."

I snorted. That came out of nowhere, and I wanted to call him out on it. "How long have you been waiting to bring that up?"

"Ever since last night after you fell asleep and I realized I never tried flying."

"Well, c'mon then, let's have it. I wanna see you fly like an eagle."

"Very well. But you're not just going to watch me fly _like a vampire_, I can assure you."

He smirked and opened the window, sticking one leg out of it before I could even realize what was happening. He jumped out of the frame and I shrieked and rushed over to see that he was levitating in front of my window. I gasped.

"Your turn," he said, grinning wickedly and holding his arms out for me. I cautiously sat on the windowsill with my legs dangling, and Eric reached and hoisted me up so that my legs were wrapped around his waist. I threw my arms around his neck, holding on for my life, and he winked before he started flying over the window … and then the house … and then the trees. _'Even though I've never been on a plane, I don't think I'll ever want to now. Eric's spoiled flying for me,'_ I thought as I watched woods and neighborhoods and buildins shrink into playthings. How many other people, vampires or humans or, heck, leprechauns got to fly, like Superman fly? I was thankful that Eric liked me enough to share his gift with me when Pam and Chow didn't even bother telling me what their special vampire abilities were.

It was a clear night and I looked up to see the stars and moon smiling down on me. I felt like Eric and I were slow-dancing in mid air; my cheek was resting against Eric's and his hands were pleasantly glued to the curve of my back. I didn't know what Eric's face looked like because I was too busy gaping at my surroundings like I was a kid at the North Pole, but I could just tell that he was enjoying this as much as I was.

"This is amazing," I whispered into his hair. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, Sookie," he whispered back, his lips brushing my ear.

Maybe it was the romance laced in the moment or in the scenery or in his words or even in Eric himself, but I turned my head and gingerly kissed Eric on the cheek. I felt him close his eyes and smile as I let my lips linger, which encouraged me to cautiously approach his mouth and kiss him. He responded earnestly, like he had been waiting all night for me to make the first move. His kiss deepened and I parted my lips. Eric settled into a rhythm that even someone as inexperienced as I could follow easily and eagerly.

I'd never been kissed like this. It went on and on until I dizzily thought the moon and the stars and the whole world were involved in the kiss, in the vampire's mouth on mine. He would stop and kiss my neck or my hair or my jaw every so often, so I'd have some time to catch my breath before he took it away again. I blindly thought that Eric was kissing me into Heaven. It felt like a miracle that I could only hear what his lips was saying, not those pesky thoughts from minds that had mentally shocked me when I kissed other boys. I liked this way of kissing much better, mostly because I was doing it with Eric.

We stopped flying and I heard the thud of Eric's feet on a hard surface. I opened my eyes and saw that he had directed us onto the back porch. I peered up at Eric with a question on my face. He shrugged and hoarsely whispered, "I couldn't concentrate on flying."

"Good," I murmured, "because I want you to concentrate on something else."

Eric smiled and I reached up to touch the fangs that had just popped down. They were hard yet smooth, and very pointy. I wondered how I'd be able to kiss him now, since I barely just got the hang of regular kissing with Eric. At the first contact between finger and fang he closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly, moaning into my outstretched palm. I moved my finger down to trace his lips, and then I boldly kissed him on the mouth again, even sliding my tongue in. After some time I accidentally pricked my tongue on a fang, but Eric groaned even louder because of my accidental mistake and began kissing me more passionately as I bled into his kisses.

I didn't move to get down and he didn't encourage it, instead groping around for the door knob with one hand and practically breaking the door open in his haste. I very helpfully moved my head so he could see where he was going, congratulating him on his very important accomplishment of opening the door by kissing my way down his neck.

As Eric deftly mounted the stairs, one hand on the railing for support and the other wrapped tightly around my waist, an immense feeling of trepidation seeped into my already brimming pot of mixed emotions. This was the part in the movies where the guy leads the girl upstairs and the door closes behind them and the screen fades to black and cuts to the morning after. I knew I felt more for Eric than I had ever felt for any other man, and I knew I acted and talked with him differently, and that I thought about him more than anyone else. But I was still apprehensive about what I really wanted to happen, but didn't want to happen right now. Just by kissing him with this much passion and feeling for this long was already more than what I've done with anyone else. I was a twenty-four year old virgin with as much experience with members of the opposite sex as a promiscuous fifth grader, and I was making out with a vampire with over a thousand years worth of sexual sophistication that, if the way he was kissing me was any indication, was so powerful that not even a memory-erasing curse could rid him of.

By this time Eric had navigated us into my bedroom and onto my bed, gently laying me down on the covers and sliding on top of me, his lips never abandoning mine. I could feel that he liked this arrangement as much as I did, which both thrilled and terrified me. My body wanted this, and my mind did too—just not tonight, at this very moment.

I pulled back from the kiss. An undeterred Eric started kissing my collar bone, lightly scraping my skin with his teeth and inhaling deeply. I never knew that having a vampire's fangs on my bare skin could feel so good.

"Eric," I breathed into his hair. He murmured against my skin and kissed my neck in response.

"Eric," I tried more firmly. He dragged his eyes to look at me.

"Yes, Sookie?" Eric whispered, the tone of his voice making me want to say "Awh, to hell with it!" and smooch his face off.

"Eric … it's not that I don't want to go farther, because I do, I really really do, but, uh …."

"But it's not a problem, Sookie. I do not wish to force you to do something you are not ready for," Eric replied, kissing me on the forehead. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear before moving over to lie on his side towards me. "I have nothing but time."

"Well, I wouldn't say that you'll have to wait for all of eternity for me to shed my fair maiden skin," I replied, pleased at the way he was taking this and glad that I could joke about my virginity, something I definitely had not been able to do last night. Baby steps, people!

"I would wait forever, although I am glad to hear that you will still be alive when you do yield to me," he responded smoothly. I giggled but didn't know what to say to that, so I bent my head down and kissed the inside of his wrist, the wrist connected to the hand that was cupping my cheek.

Eric smiled and swooped down to kiss me. I responded and soon licked his fang, which reminded me of something.

I broke the kiss and asked, "Hey, Eric, did I taste different?"

"Yes, it did taste different, but good-different, special-different. Your blood was even sweeter than I imagined. I liked it. A lot."

"Yeah, well, I try," I responded airily. Eric laughed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "Eric, do you think that could be because of my telepathy? Why my blood tastes different and why I smell so good?"

Eric thought about it. "That's what I would guess, but I am not certain. Whatever the reason, I enjoyed your blood."

I grinned and looked at the clock, which made me immediately wish I didn't. I had the day off tomorrow, but I had a load of laundry and housecleaning and other menial chores to do. I'd need my rest; hiding a vampire really is harder than it sounds.

"Eric, it's getting late. For me. I need to sleep."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No! Oh gosh, no! I just really need to go to bed," I answered quickly, kissing him on the lips before forcing myself to move out of his touch. I grabbed a plain white cotton nightgown and staggered into the bathroom to clean myself up, squinting as I turned the harsh, unforgiving lights on.

My lips looked puffy and red, like I had just had the best kissing of my life—which was true. I stuck my tongue out to check the puncture wound, but there was nothing there. That confused me. I thought if I drank Eric's blood then I'd have the healing properties? But he was the one who drank my blood yet I didn't have a mark.

I stumbled out of the bathroom and called out, "Eric, why don't I have a cut on my tongue?"

"Vampire fangs release a little anticoagulant, I think it was called, and it makes you heal really fast. No cuts for Sookie."

"It was called? What do you mean, 'I think it was called?'"

"Yes, that's what Pam called it. She informed me about the anticoagulant yesterday while you bathed."

"Oh. Okay. Just checking," I replied, ducking back in the bathroom. How did that subject even come up? What else did they talk about while I was upstairs?

I washed my face and brushed my teeth and quickly braided my hair. I could shower tomorrow.

When I reentered my room, I saw that Eric had tucked himself under the covers on what I now thought of as his side of the bed, and had very thoughtfully pulled down the blankets and sheets on my side of the mattress so as to facilitate the getting-in-the-bed process. I threw my dirty clothes somewhere in the vicinity of where my hamper was supposed to be (although I should have just given Eric the clothes to throw, remembering how easily he had tossed the wet paper towels into the trash can from the first night and thinking that vampires apparently make good basketball players).

I slid in and gave Eric a goodnight kiss on the cheek, like Gran used to do to me. Then Eric leaned closer and kissed me in a way that Gran most definitely never kissed me. But I was more than okay with that. Eric wished me a pleasant sleep and lazily draped an arm around my waist and drew me closer to him. I snuggled to fit his frame and then peacefully fell asleep with my own personal Viking blanket wrapped around me.

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**I know, I'm such a shower tease. But hey, I did post way earlier than expected! That counts for something, right? Next chapter should be up soonish. Gotta get to work on my other story though, first.**

**And now for something completely different: one of my friends showed me this link to an online mean name generator and I've never laughed so hard while reading a website. My favorites so far are: booger-encrusted shit eater, pudding-eyed taco demon, foul-haired bum pastry, and needle-loined dung goblin. Check it out!!! You WON'T be disappointed. **

**http://www . cheezus . com/mean/**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: *raises hand to speak* hello peeps! Sorry about the wait. Real life =/ But thanks for being really supportive of the last chapter! **

**And thank you for chiisai-kitty for taking time out of her busy free-jewelry-earning schedule for looking this over for me. :P**

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I was being chased by evil grapes.

Five evil grapes to be exact. Nope, wait, six evil grapes—one just climbed out of the trashcan I sprinted past. It joined the others in running after me, their Mickey Mouse-esque legs and feet loudly smacking the pavement as a constant reminder that I was, as previously stated, being chased by maniac fruit with fangs and horns and black spots where their eyes were supposed to be. They communicated with a series of high-pitched squeals in what I assumed to be evil grape-language, and the sounds seemed to echo off of the granite buildings located on either side of the deserted street that I was currently running down. But soon their squeaks were replaced by pounding and heavy breathing, and I quickly glanced over my shoulder to see that the grapes were coming closer and closer.

I felt a tapping on my shoulder and screamed, "I WON'T EAT YOU ANYMORE!! I PROMISE!!"

"What?" Eric's voice asked. Eric? Where was Eric? Eric could help me fight the evil grapes. Vampires could destroy fruit!!!

Someone started shaking me and I woke up to find Eric sitting on my side of the bed with one cold hand on my shoulder and the other holding my phone to his ear. Oh, is this a new dream?

"Sookie, it's Eric. You were just sleeping," Eric murmured, stroking my cheek. I heard something come from the phone but couldn't make out any words. And why was Eric talking on the phone anyways? I have really strange dreams.

"Eric, who are you talking to?" I asked before yawning and rubbing my eyes.

He looked down at me with an adorably confused look on his face. "I am talking to you, Sookie."

I smiled faintly and sat upright to clarify, "No, who are you talking to on the phone?"

"Oh, of course. Pam called. I heard her voice on the machine and picked up the phone. She needs to talk to you. It's urgent."

I stared at Eric before extending a hand to hold the phone. As soon as I brought it to my ear Pam spoke. "Sookie, is Sam Merlotte fond of you?"

I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't still sleeping, something I should have done a while ago. After I felt the slight pain confirming that Pam really did call me at 3 a.m. to ask if my boss likes me, I groggily replied, "Sure, I guess. Why do you ask?"

"If you asked him to spend time with you outside of work, do you think he would accept?"

"Uh … I don't know. I'm getting tired of saying this, but why do you ask?"

"I have it on good authority that Merlotte is quite fond of you, Sookie. Do not doubt yourself. Use your feminine charms to persuade him to pay more attention to you."

Sorry, but what the fuck? I had no idea where Pam was going with this, and Eric apparently didn't either. Scowling slightly, he scooched closer to me onto the bed and grasped my non-phone-holding hand firmly with both of his.

"Sam's just a decent guy. He's nice to everyone," I said, trying to neutralize the situation.

"Good. What time do you start work?" Pam asked. I resisted teasing her by asking if she wanted to know when I could hang out with her. Somehow it didn't seem like it was the best time for jokes.

"Tomorrow … today … is my day off. I don't have to go in," I answered.

After a pause, Pam replied, "Oh no, that won't do."

"Um, excuse me?"

"I want Sam to watch over you, in case something happens."

"Pam, why do you think something might happen to me? Would you please tell me what's going on here?" I asked angrily, glaring at Eric because I couldn't glare at Pam. He shrugged his shoulders and made a 'don't look at me' face that I knew all too well, having seen it on Jason for most of my life.

After a few moments of hesitation, Pam explained, "The witches have abducted Clancy, our nest mate. They sent over his clothes not thirty minutes ago."

"Oh," I responded, secretly wondering when the last time Clancy was a fashionable name for a male and if he had been alive then. Then I thought about what a nest mate was, if vampires secretly turned into bats while they slept and it was such a big vampire secret that Pam couldn't even tell me. "What's a nest mate?"

Pam sighed, and I assumed she did it not because she was in need of air but so she could demonstrate her annoyance with me because hello, vampire!

"He is a vampire who works with us, but that is not of any importance. The witches attached a note stating that they will kill a vampire or other supernatural creature they meet for each day they have to search for Eric," she replied stoically, no trace of worry or anger in her flat voice.

"Oh my god!" I gasped. Eric flinched noticeably; obviously he had not been told that classified information and did not like that people, especially people he was obviously very close to, were unnecessarily dying because of him. He absently patted my leg and moved to stand in front of the window with his back to me. He leaned over with both hands on the windowsill, the moonlight showing off the paleness of his hair and his shirtless back.

"Yes, this is bad," Pam said definitively. I gulped—vampires aren't supposed to say that things are bad. She continued, "Now this is bigger than us, because it concerns all of the Shreveport supes: vampires, shifters, and Weres. By going after more than just vampires, the witches are hoping to have the other supes turn against us. This is not good at all."

"What are you going to do?" I asked quickly, hoping she would have a plan because I sure as hell didn't. I felt myself moving towards a serious panic attack. Eric tore himself away from the window and sat next to me, but on his side of the bed. He brought an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him; I snuggled up against his side and felt a teensy bit better.

"I'm trying to protect you by having your boss watch you when Eric or I cannot. I do not like being forced to trust a shifter I have not met, but I cannot find anything against him and I need him … I require his assistance on a very urgent matter that I cannot help with. I do not think the witches have knowledge of you or what you can do or who you are currently entertaining as a house guest, but one can never be too safe."

"So what are you going to do about the witches? Do you have people—supes—out looking for Clancy? Do the other supes know what is happening? Or going to happen?"

"Not yet, no. I plan on calling them after you. Right now Eric's my number-one priority, and because you have knowledge of his whereabouts and are risking your life to house him, that makes you my number-two. But perhaps I should instruct Eric's day person to call the Were leader at an hour when he is awake and functioning. Yes, I think I'll do that. I'll have to glamor him afterwards, this is too confidential. Depending on how those talks go, there might be a meeting at Fangtasia or an undisclosed location later, to fortify a plan of attack. I will keep you informed of the pertinent details."

"Oh, okay. Hey, did you ever glamor that cop into teaching you how to shoot a shot gun? 'Cause I think now would be a pretty damn good time to know how to defend myself." _Or at least try to defend myself from people who were capable of abducting and killing vampires and other creatures._

"No, I have not. I was planning on doing so on my way home tonight, but with the work I now have to do it might have to wait until tomorrow. Fear not, Sookie. I am sure your shifter will be capable of keeping you alive until sundown tomorrow."

Eric stiffened at the "your shifter" part. I rubbed his chest soothingly, trying to show that there was nothing to be worried about. For someone who just started having a romantic moment with me just hours before, he was acting awfully jealous about a man he'd never met.

"Yeah, hopefully," I replied. "Should I tell him about all this—about Eric and the witches and stuff?"

Pam deliberated for a few seconds before answering, "I suppose it's only fair, since I am informing the other supes in Shreveport. But maybe don't say Eric's at your house just yet. Just say you are involved with him and if the shifter asks any more questions threaten to slap him with a sexual harassment lawsuit, and then he should drop his inappropriate shenanigans. Dear Abby recommended that to someone who was having work issues with her boss. Tell me, does Sam inappropriately find excuses to touch you?"

Eric stiffened again, and I shot him a look before quickly replying, "What? No, of course not. That's ridiculous. You're quoting Dear Abby about this?" This obsession was cute at first, but now it was just borderline obsessive. Quoting a self-help column at a time like this?

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" Pam answered, sounding a little incredulous.

"Just glad you're getting your money out of buying the newspaper, Pam," I answered wearily, "but what if Sam's busy tomorrow or he has too many waitresses already? Then what? If I have to spend my day off at my workplace and not get paid for it, I'm not gonna be a happy camper, you know."

"Why would you be a happy camper? Who's camping? You only need to be around Sam until sunrise. If you feel uncomfortable about asking him there is a Were in Shreveport who is deeply indebted to Eric; I could force him to be your bodyguard," Pam said, almost sounding gleeful at the prospect of making someone obey her command.

"Uh, let's just hold off of that for now," I responded quickly, "I'll call Sam _at a human time_ and then see what's up." I didn't like that someone would be forced into body-guarding me. How powerful was Eric that he would have so much influence over one individual?

'Very well. But whatever you decide to do, you must call Eric's day man and notify him about your plans. If everything plays accordingly with the packmaster, I should be able to notify the Were that he might need to rearrange his schedule tomorrow. I'll leave his number with Bobby Burnham, Eric's guy. Do you have a pen and paper ready for Bobby's cell phone number?"

"Uh … hold on a sec," I replied, lifting myself out of bed and padding over to my desk drawer. I found an old ATM receipt and a Milky Pen. Good enough. "Ready."

Pam gave me the number and a list of places not to go due to confirmed witch sightings. Right, like I was planning on dropping by Madame Celeste's Cauldron to pick up a pound of rat toes and a spring of poison ivy before running to the grocery store for a gallon of milk. After Pam extracted the promise that I would get in touch with this Burnham fellow, she finally let me go and I quickly clicked the phone off before she could tell me that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny wanted Eric dead too.

"Those witches sure mean business," I said to Eric, who now lying on his back, looking towards me.

"And you didn't think they did when they erased my memory?" Eric replied jokingly.

Oh. Point Eric. "Ha ha ha. But I don't like this one bit."

"Like what?" Eric asked.

"Like how they're going to hurt innocent people just because they can't hurt you anymore. Why are they so mean?"

"I don't know. But it's not fair. I hope Pam will be able to take care of this in my absence." _Yeah, me too._

"Speaking of your absence, what do you think I should do during the day? Call Sam, or call your day man, whatever that means?" I asked. Was a day man another kind of supernatural thingy? Like a sun god or something?

"Pam said he is like a messenger boy who does errands for me during the day. She said he has been in my service for a while and he is a very devoted and loyal subject. She also said he was my bitch, but I don't know why she thinks he's my female dog."

"Oh. Huh." Eric had subjects, loyal and devoted subjects. He also had his own man-bitch. Who'd have thunk?

"I think I'll call Sam first. But if he's busy during the day I guess I'll have to phone this Bobby Burnham and be important enough to have my own bodyguard," I continued, bringing the covers up to my chin. I felt chilled thinking about what would happen to me and Eric if the witches found us, if they had no problem murdering random supernatural people who might not even know Eric. Vampire Eric came with a lot of unearthly baggage. Sometimes everything about this whole situation sounded so ludicrous and far-fetched I half expected a camera crew or Ryan Seacrest to pop up and inform me I was on a "fool-the-human" kind of reality TV show.

"That sounds reasonable. And thank you, Sookie, for agreeing to all of this. I know it isn't what you were expecting when you picked up a lonely man running down the road," Eric replied, turning on his side to face me.

"No it wasn't, but I'm okay with that. You make it worth it," I said honestly. Even in his mind-altered state Eric was exciting to be around; I don't know if it was because he was a vampire or because he had amnesia or if it was just because he was Eric, but he was unlike any other person I had ever known. With Eric by my side, I could see colors that others couldn't see, or hear music that others couldn't hear. And because he had brought me so much joy and companionship at a time where I had none, I was probably as thankful for him as he was for me.

"I worry about this. About you. If I could worry about you during the day, I would do it every minute," Eric said seriously. I idly wondered if that was his special vampire way of telling me he liked me. But I was too worn out to care. I just wanted to go back to sleep and deal with all of this stuff tomorrow.

"Feeling's mutual … except during the night for me," I fumbled, wanting to say the same thing as Eric but failing. Instead of saying how much we like each other, we say how much we worry about the other. Guess that's befitting given it's a human-amnesiac vampire relationship. Somehow I got the feeling that Dr. Phil wouldn't know how to handle this case.

"And it's still night. You should go to bed Sookie, especially now that you seem to have a very important day ahead of you. I'm sorry for waking you up, but I heard Pam and she said it was important and that I needed to pick up … so I did."

"I don't care. It was really important. We needed to know that stuff," I mumbled distractedly, my eyes struggling to stay open now that I wasn't being told really awful information.

"What were you screaming about when I woke you up?" Eric asked curiously, inching a little closer to me.

"Evil grapes were chasing me. It was weird. I'm really tired, Eric, so I'm just going to try falling asleep. See you tomorrow," I whispered, already burrowing under my covers.

Eric leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, murmuring, "Sweeter dreams, Sookie. I'll protect you from the evil grapes for now."

I laughed sleepily. Eric had a lot more on his plate than evil grapes—we all did.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey. Hello. Hi. This chapter is dedicated to the weather, since I've had two snow-related half-days off from school. **

**Chiisai-kitty dreamed up the clever soap opera titles in addition to beta-ing this chapter. Thanks grrl!**

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I woke up at 8:03, but didn't get up until 8:40, lazily lying in the comfort of my bed while trying to figure out what I was going to do today … and tonight … and tomorrow … and tomorrow night.

Once I worried a sufficient amount, I hauled myself to the kitchen and started making coffee, resolving to call Sam once I had some caffeinated courage. But unlike other mornings, it seemed that the coffee was ready before I barely turned my back.

I sipped slowly, reviewing the game plan I had formulated in bed: call Sam and ask if he needs any help. If he does, then give him the whole scoop in person; if he doesn't, then call Burnham and ask for the bodyguard.

I took in a deep breath and called the restaurant, making my way over to the couch while I waited for Sam to pick up.

"Merlotte's," Sam answered.

"Hey Sookie, it's Sam. Wait. No. That's not right. Hey Sam, it's Sookie," I fumbled awkwardly, wishing there was some way I could smack myself on the forehead without having Sam hear it.

Sam laughed good-naturedly and replied, "Hey cher, rough morning?"

"You could say that," I replied weakly.

"What's up?"

"Listen, I was just wondering if you needed an extra pair of hands at Merlotte's today?" I asked, surprised at how my voice just became gerbil-squeak high-pitched.

"But … today's your day off, Sookie," Sam stated dumbly.

"Yeah, I know. It's just, um, I kinda need to take my mind off things, and, well, a little extra money never hurts."

"It's Friday morning, meaning there won't be that many customers and I don't need you as a waitress."

I quickly said, "Oh, okay, that's fine, no big deal, I'll—"

He cut me off, adding, "But … shipment just came in today, and I guess I could use some help with that. You up for moving boxes and stacking supplies? I don't know how long it'll take, but I'll give ya twenty bucks to start and then we can work it out later."

"That's perfect. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it," I squealed, "and did I tell you recently that you're the best boss ever?"

"Nope, but I'll never get tired of hearing it. Does 10:30 sound good?"

"Sure. Thanks again."

"No problem. And cher?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

Was I? I forced a laugh and answered, "Yeah, I'll be okay."

"I didn't ask if you _will be_ okay, I asked if you _are_ okay."

I sighed. Stupid verb tenses! "Right. That's what I meant."

"'Cause if you need to talk to someone, you know you can talk to me, right?"

"Yep." _But only because a vampire told me to._

"I mean it."

"Thanks Sam." _Please hang up now._

"About anything."

"Got it." _Stop talking._

"Absolutely anything"

"Will do." _But only because my life, and Eric's life, depends on it._

"Good."

" Well, I need to take a shower now, so see ya at 10:30," I replied quickly, wishing I could just hang up the phone.

"Just … just be careful, cher," Sam said, sounding like he was swallowing a story.

"It's just a shower," I replied, wondering why he felt the need to act like my dad after prom night. Was this his way of bringing up why I smelled like a vampire at work yesterday?

"Right. Of course. Bye now," he murmured mysteriously before hanging up.

I turned the phone off and lay back wearily on the couch. Who knew a three minute phone conversation would leave me feeling so exhausted? Oh well, on to call number two. I picked up the piece of paper the phone number was written on and dialed it.

"Burnham." Geez, what is with Eric's underlings having terrible phone manners? I wish I had heard him pick up the phone last night, just because.

"Hi there, this is Sookie Stackhouse."

"Bobby Burnham, as you hopefully already know."

I awkwardly laughed, "Yeah. So I'm just calling to check in and say that I'm just gonna hang out with my boss today, so I don't need that bodyguard who's indebted to Eric."

"Am I to assume that when you say 'my boss' you are referring to the shifter Sam Merlotte? And 'that bodyguard' is the Were from Shreveport?"

"Indeed," I replied, biting back a laugh at how I was trying to see his pretentiousness and raise him some snootiness. How d'you like me now, Mr. High-and-Mighty?

"Very well. Would you like the Were's cell phone number just in case?"

"Uh … sure, why not? Might as well." _Besides, if there ever was a time where I desperately needed my own bodyguard, it'd be better if I already had his number and didn't have to reach him via a very reluctant middleman. _

I copied down the number and thanked Bobby Burnham, who informed me that he was required to tell me to bring Eric to Fangtasia tonight at eight. Then he hung up. Oh, okay then. Maybe he had a lot more vampire stuff to do befitting his official position as Eric's numero-uno bitch. I giggled just thinking about what Pam had called him.

Pam. Looked like the conversation with the Shreveport packmaster, although packmaster of what exactly I don't know, went well if there was a meeting tonight. That was good, right?

To ease my mind, I read today's newspaper, and was surprised to see that the witches hadn't taken out a personal ad looking for Eric. Well then, guess there was no point in running to the fridge and checking my milk carton.

I showered quickly before pulling on an old pair of jeans and a long-sleeve navy shirt, not quite sure of the appropriate attire a girl's supposed to wear when completely altering her relationship with her boss, hopefully for better but probably for worse.

Merlotte's doesn't officially open until twelve on weekdays, so I wasn't surprised when I only saw Sam's pickup truck in the parking lot. I parked my car and made my way in, narrowing my eyes at the wanted poster that was still hanging up inside the restaurant.

"Sam?" I called out, looking around.

"Office," he yelled back. I walked back past the kitchen and sure enough, Sam was in his office filling out some paperwork. I politely knocked on the open door and was instantly invited in.

"Hey Sookie," Sam said, standing up. He didn't move to hug me or even shake my hand like he had in the past. I smiled nervously and just said hey back, both of us not addressing the figurative vampire in the room. _He has to know, or else he wouldn't be acting like this._ _He knows, he knows, oh God he knows. _

"So, uh, ready to start unpacking?" Sam asked after a few awkward seconds had passed. I nodded and he stepped around me to start walking to the storage rooms, calling out over his shoulder, "Nothing much today; just a couple cases of beer, condiments, hamburger buns, those kinds of things."

"Right," I said, just to fill in the conversational gap. While turning the corner I banged my hip against a wooden cabinet and yelped, and Sam glanced back but didn't say anything. Once we entered the storage room, he immediately got to work opening a crate. I did the same.

We worked mechanically, robotically, opening up boxes and moving around each other to place items on the shelves. After a few minutes, Sam broke the silence and asked conversationally, "So what's new with you?"

It was such an innocent question, but I could tell it had several layers. I stopped working and straightened from the crouched position I had taken while unpacking the boxes. Well, looks like it was now or never. Time to get my game on.

But I chickened out and lamely answered, "Nothing much. What about you?"

I knew Pam said I could trust Sam, and I mostly did, but I didn't like that he was a shifter and never told me, the local 'psychic' about it. Also, I didn't want him to get picked off by the witches if they heard he knew about Eric's whereabouts. After all, he did meet them when they hung up their sign; maybe they put a spell on him or something? I didn't think he would ally himself with the witches because from what Pam said, Sam wasn't really involved in the supernatural community, since he didn't have a packmaster (that I knew of) and he hadn't been to Fangtasia (that Pam knew of).

Evidently, Sam was braver than I was, as he replied, "Wanna hear something weird?"

"Sure," I said neutrally, ducking down to pick up a box of artificial sweeteners. _Wanna hear about everything that's happened to me in the past three days? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that'd be weirder._

"This woman left me a message at 4 a.m. saying that my presence was required at Fangtasia tonight at eight o'clock sharp." He looked knowingly at me, and I knew that he wasn't saying that to be sociable. Okay, now was the time to put the big girl pants on.

"Yeah, about that …." I said clearly, watching as Sam stopped what he was doing and gave me his full attention.

"Sookie, does this have anything to do with hearing things about you and some vampire?" Sam asked. I bit my lip. I didn't think there was any way that any person, or hell, any being, knew about me and Eric, except for Pam and Chow, and they definitely weren't BFFs with Sam. They weren't even Fs with him.

"You mean, does this have anything to do with you smelling vampire on me?" I shot back. In for a penny, in for a pound. Here we go.

Flabbergasted, Sam opened his mouth but didn't say anything. Clearly he wasn't expecting that answer. "What? You know? For how long?"

"Coupla days," I answered, pleased he wasn't denying it and even more pleased that the conversation wasn't about me now. Of course, he didn't say if I was right or wrong in my assessment, which worried me.

"Did the vampire tell you?"

"Which vampire?" I asked, then immediately regretted opening my mouth. Hey, dig the hole a little deeper, please!

Thankfully, Sam didn't catch or acknowledge the hidden message in my last statement, that I was hanging out with more than one vampire."The one who called me. The woman."

"She didn't even leave her name?" Seriously, did Eric make it a rule to be impolite while on the phone?

"No. Are you involved with her?"

I thought about it. I knew Sam was asking if I was involved with her sexually or romantically, which I was not. Definitely not. However, he didn't specify a degree or type of involvement, and I really didn't want to give out too much information that could come back and bite Sam on his shifter butt. I'd rather have him think I was a secret lesbian fangbanger than endanger his well-being. "Kind of." _Hey, it was the truth!_

"I wasn't lying when I said you could talk to me about anything, you know," Sam replied. "You can trust me, cher."

I believed him, but not as much as I'd like. Pam did, but for her it was a necessity; for me it was an option, one that I wasn't sure I completely wanted to take. I still didn't think he was in cahoots with the witches, but I did know that he had kept a very important secret away from me. Granted, I had never stopped and told him I was a telepath, but there were certain memorable instances—like that time when I told him I could take over for Arlene's shift before he even asked me, or when I blanched before Lafayette told a disgustingly dirty joke—where I had inadvertently revealed that I wasn't all together normal and he had stared at me. If I had known he was a shifter, I would have talked to him about it as soon as I knew, just so that us crazies could stick together. But maybe that was just me.

"Can I? Can I really trust you? You never even told me you were a shifter, and you probably never would have if I didn't call you out on it!" I cried, feeling like I was on a supernatural soap opera, like _As the Fang plops _or _The Eternally Young and the Restless _or _All My Supes_. Next thing I knew Sam's twin would come bursting in, Eric would miraculously and randomly gain his memory back, and Jason would tell me he's really my dad.

"Sookie, I've never told anyone before!" Sam exclaimed.

"But you could have told me! You know what people say about me! You've seen the weird things I sometimes do! Rumors may be true or false, but they're always started for some reason or another!"

He deflated then, dropping his gaze and saying, "Yeah, well, I didn't think of that …."

"But you thought of lying to me about it, didn't you? Did you really hear gossip about me and a vampire, or did you just use that to cover up that you smelled one on me?" _Yeah, I went there. That just happened._

He sheepishly answered, "I smelled vampire on you."

As much as I didn't want to, I chortled at the ludicrousness of his statement. _'I smelled vampire on you_._'_ It was too much. After a few incredulous seconds, Sam joined me.

"Can you imagine what would have happened if like, Arlene or Lafayette walked in while you were telling me I smelled like a vampire?"

"Yeah, we'd have to kill them. Supernatural law and all."

My eyes widened. "Really?"

Sam burst out laughing, even sitting down and clutching his stomach. "Nah, I was just messing with you."

"Oh," I said, sitting down next to him with my back resting against the shelf. "You never know with those guys."

Sam snorted, and we got a bad case of the giggles again.

"Oh man, what have we gotten ourselves into?" I asked rhetorically after we were all laughed out.

"Seriously. It's like all the vampires are taking over! You're with a vampire, these witches come and hang a poster of a vampire on my wall—what? You didn't know about the witches?"

I had stiffened and shot up so fast that I hit my head on the shelf and was wobbly for a couple seconds, but not for the reason Sam thought.

_The poster didn't say Eric was a vampire._

"Sam, how did you know that Eric's a vampire?" I asked cautiously, standing up and taking a couple steps away from where Sam was sitting and staring confusedly at me.

"How did you know his name is Eric?" Well, I wasn't expecting that. And he used the present tense. Was that because I did or because he knew that somewhere, somehow Eric was as alive as possible?

"No, you don't get to do that. Answer my question. Eric's name is on the poster. What isn't on the poster is that he's a vampire. So I'll repeat myself and hopefully this time you'll answer me. How did you know Eric's a vampire?" I practically shouted, simultaneously feeling badass and terrified.

Sam's eyes widened in shock upon meeting pissed-off Sookie for the first time. He stood up and quickly answered, "That's what the witches said. Marnie and Mark Stonebrook."

'_Shit, I really hope Sookie has nothing to do with this, I knew something just felt wrong about those two.'  
_

"What else did they say, Sam?" I asked as calmly as I could, trying to probe in his mind. This was the clearest his brain had ever been for me; was it because he was scared or that his thoughts just became louder when we were alone together or because he was trying to hide something?" Maybe a combination of the three?

He yelped, "They gave me their names, said they were looking for their friend and were so worried they came all the way out to Bon Temps, just in case. They could tell I was two-natured so they told me to be on the lookout for the vampire, if I knew what was good for me, which I didn't really get. Um, they told me to mention him to other supes and stuff. Let's see … they said they would come and check in by the end of next of the week, see if I could be useful to them."

"_Those witches seemed too powerful and I've lived this long without involving myself in supernatural shit, so I really don't want to start doing that now. Sookie's too good to get mixed up in all of this. Why does she care so much?"_

As flustered as I was at being able to clearly read Sam's mind two times in a row, I needed to focus on the witches; I decided to push the issue by saying, "Sam, if you're aligned with the witches, you need to tell me. NOW."

"No! No I'm not! I just saw them that one time for like, five minutes! That's it, I swear! Why? What's it to you? Are you with them? Are you in some kind of trouble? Is that why the vampire called me? Is that why my presence is fucking required at Fangtasia?" Sam thundered, getting his mojo back. He walked closer to me and grabbed my hands earnestly.

The close contact gave me an even better opening in his mind, and I could see that he was thinking back to the conversation he'd had with the witches. He really was telling the truth about everything. Marnie/Hallow and Mark/I-don't-remember-his-real-name had looked pretty menacing when telling Sam he needed to be on the lookout for Eric; they had both smirked, and I just knew that there was a very good chance that Sam might end up being the shifter version of Clancy soon.

I believed Sam, and trusted him as much as I could trust anyone. And if he was going to the supes-only gathering at Fangtasia later, he probably would be informed of everything there, so I might as well tell him what I knew. He was on our side, and he deserved to know what he was fighting against. Having been kept in the dark in the past, I knew the importance of being informed and well-prepared. Plus, it sucks to feel incompetent and inadequate, and I didn't want to make him feel that way.

"Hold on there, Sam, that's a lot of questions," I said. He started to open his mouth to reply but I held up a hand to silence him. "I'll answer all of them, I promise, but you need to let me just go through everything, okay?" I didn't like that I unconsciously made it a question, like I needed Sam's permission to speak. But he didn't say anything, just looked at me to continue.

I cleared my throat. "Okay. Questions first. No, I'm not with the witches, because they're the bad guys. Yes, that's why the vampire called you and why you need to come to Fangtasia tonight. Okay. Moving on. That woman on the phone? The vampire? Her name is Pam. I don't know her last name, but her name is Pam. She's the child, well vampire child, of Eric—the guy on the poster. And I'm not her girlfriend either. I'm straight." I don't know why I felt the need to add that last bit, but whatever. My sexuality wasn't really the issue here. Wait, well technically it kinda sorta maybe was … but let's not get into that right now.

I took another deep breath and continued, "So on New Year's Eve I was driving home, just like I always do, when I saw this man running down the road in just a pair of jeans. I pulled over and asked if he needed help, and when he turned around I recognized him as the vampire that Dawn slept with. But he didn't remember sleeping with Dawn, because he didn't remember anything. That witch, Marnie? Yeah, her real name is Hallow, and she cursed Eric and made him amnesiac. He's over a thousand years old and can't remember a damn thing. But I didn't know that just yet. I told him he could sleep in the graveyard and I'd call Dawn in the morning, and maybe she'd be able to help him more than I could. So I took him home and gave him some clothes and talked with him and then fell asleep."

"Jesus, Sookie! You let a strange vampire into your home and slept while he was there? Do you have a death wish? Vampires have no sense of morals; he could have just been lying the whole time just for kicks, just to trick you into giving him your blood!" Sam exploded, letting go of my hands to run his fingers through his auburn hair while furiously pacing back and forth.

"Hey, what did I say about not talking and letting me explain everything? Eric didn't even try to glamor me that night, or any other time. And I would have known, because apparently my being telepathic makes me immune to their influence," I replied curtly, glaring at Sam. He had the grace to look abashed.

"And I don't know why I just trusted him. But I'm not stupid, the first thing I did the very next day was go out and buy a stake and silver mace and jewelry and net at Walmart. That's where I saw the same wanted poster at Walmart. But unlike you, I thought it was weird it didn't reveal Eric was a vampire or where or why or when he went missing, so I thankfully didn't call the number," I added, deliberately omitting that I also picked up TrueBlood and some clothes for Eric. It was irrelevant information, in my opinion. But saying that out loud made me shudder just thinking about what might have happened if I actually had called the witches.

"So then I went to the library and tried to look up stuff on the internet about Eric, but I couldn't find anything. I copied the number down from Fangtasia and gave it to Eric, along with the number from the poster; I had already left a message on Dawn's answering machine. So we called Fangtasia and Pam found out who we were and why we were calling, so she came over with another vampire and explained everything. So Eric's kind of like a V. I.V.—Very Important Vampire. He's some vampire Sheriff, second only to some queen, and he owns a lot of businesses, one of them being Fangtasia. So Hallow and the other witches threatened to cast some evil witchy spells on his businesses if he didn't turn over half of the profits. He refused. And then Hallow said if he had sex with her for a week, then she'd accept a fifth of his profits. He refused again. And then she cursed him and he ended up running down my street in the middle of the night. Don't ask me why, because I have no fucking idea."

Sam just looked at me.

"Okay you can talk now," I said nervously, wondering if I'd made a mistake in telling him. What if he was manipulating my telepathic abilities by deliberately thinking back to the memory of meeting Marnie in the bar, and not other possible times they could have met? No, not Sam.

"What about Dawn?" Sam asked. I could have hugged him. He was such a nice guy, looking out for his waitress. I just hoped he was such a nice guy that he wasn't tricking me.

"Well, I didn't exactly ask her to vampire-sit for me in the message, so she just thought I was congratulating her on being Jason's flavor of the week and I let her believe that."

"Do I even want to know where Eric is?"

"Just know he's safe."

Sam smiled faintly and said, "Good. I just don't want to know too much in case the witches cast a spell on me to make me talk."

I smiled back, glad Sam was being as truthful as his thoughts. "That's fine by me."

"So why do I need to be at Fangtasia tonight?"

I shrugged, "I'm not really sure, but I think it has something to do with the fact that you're a shifter and you're my boss. I forgot to say this, but yesterday the witches took a vampire who was close to Eric, and left his clothes and a note saying that for every day they had to look for Eric they'd kill a supe, and it didn't matter if it was a vampire or a were or a shifter. That's probably what they meant when they said you'd help them if you knew what was good for you. And so I guess Pam called this packmaster in Shreveport, and she had told me that if things went well there'd be a supe meeting tonight. By the way, do you have a shifter packmaster?"

Sam chuckled, "Nope, I don't belong to a pack. I'm my own person."

"Oh. Okay."

Sam hesitated and looked at the floor before asking, "Sookie, is this why you asked if you could come over today? So I could protect you?"

I nodded my head. "Pam thought it was a good idea."

"It is. I'll protect you and, by extension, Eric and Pam. But I'm doing this because of you."

"Whatever the reason," I laughed, stepping closer to give him a warm hug. He hugged back tightly and didn't let go for a while.

"All right, I'll let you get back to work. The others should be coming in soon, anyways. Oh, and I'll call Terry and see if he can help out tonight, since I'm going to Fangtasia. If I asked him to come in earlier, would you be agreeable to just hanging out with me, doing whatever you usually do on your days off? I bet you don't want to hang around here, since you're not working," Sam said, stepping back.

"Sure, that's fine. I was just going to get groceries but maybe we could go out to lunch and watch a movie or something," I replied agreeably, not wanting Sam to come in my house and smell Eric.

"Good for me. I actually need to pick up some stuff at the grocery store. And I guess it wouldn't hurt to check out the competition and eat at another restaurant," he teased. I wasn't sure if he really needed to buy groceries or if he was just saying that, and I tried to peek in but for whatever reason I just got swirls of blue radiating from his brain.

He left the room, and I got back to work unpacking. Later, Sam came back and said Terry was here so we could head out.

Shopping with Sam was interesting. I guess being in the restaurant business made him real peculiar when it comes to food, because he always spent a lot of time investigating the fresh fruit and vegetables, and comparing prices of different brands. It was funny watching a man take grocery shopping so seriously, but with his help I spent less money on more food. If Gran was here, she probably would have encouraged me to propose to Sam on the spot, or even do it herself.

As soon as we stacked all the groceries in the back of his pick-up truck, I immediately wished I hadn't purchased food that needed to be refrigerated, because now I had to go back home, home to where Eric was. Hopefully Chow wasn't exaggerating when he said Sam had an inferior sense of smell. Not wanting to take any chances, I made Sam sit in the car with the motor running as I frantically rushed inside and stuffed all of the grocery bags, even the ones carrying items that didn't need to be cooled, into the fridge before running back out. He didn't say anything, so I guessed he didn't smell Eric or just thought all Southern gals were crazy about their groceries.

After that we ate lunch at a diner and went and saw a movie at the movie theater in Shreveport; Sam paid for everything as part of my payment for the work I did this morning. It didn't feel weird or awkward hanging out with my boss outside of work; I had more fun with him than I thought I would.

Around five or so he drove back to Merlotte's and dropped me off. I hugged him goodbye and said I'd seen him at Fangtasia and drove home. As I waited for Eric to wake up, I unpacked all the groceries and cleaned up a bit around the house. Once I saw the sunset through the newly-cleaned windows I went upstairs to out what one wears when meeting werewolves and other supernatural creatures for the first time, looking at the closet floor more than my clothes. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long, as the trap door creaked open and Eric lifted himself up from the opening and immediately scooped me up and started kissing me. Although I was startled by his open display of affection, I kissed right back just as eagerly.

Once I had to stop and take a breather, Eric set me down again and asked me about my day, wrinkling his nose and saying that he thought he smelled shifter on me once I told him about everything that happened with Sam.

After that I heated up some blood for Eric, which he drank while I ate my dinner and talked about what might happen later tonight. It felt domestic in a really surreal way, even more so when the doorbell rang and we both walked over to the front hallway.

Just like the last time someone rang the doorbell, Eric positioned himself in front of me and slowly opened the door. And also just like last time, Pam was standing there. Only this time she was wearing khakis and a light pink cardigan set and carrying a light blue polka dot tote bag, her long, flowing hair decorated with a white headband the color of her skin. I almost didn't recognize her without her black goth get-up she'd been wearing the last time, the kind of black goth get-up that Chow and all other vampires I'd seen pictures of wore.

Okay, so either (a) something really bad happened, so bad that Pam had to dress like a civilian to go undercover and escape to my house, or (b) Pam was bewitched by the witches. Of only one thing I was sure about: (1) a vampire in pastel cannot be a good thing.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: You guys are too cute. FF and AOL are the top two most visited sites on my web browser because of you. Keep on keepin' on. *bear hugs readers***

**And a gracious gracias to Chiisai-kitty for being such a fast beta and listening to me yap about how much I love the snow (right now it's February school vacation week; it snowed six inches yesterday and I've been sledding ever since!).**

-_-_-_-_-_-_

"Good evening Eric, Sookie," Pam calmly greeted.

"Good evening, Pam," Eric replied, evidently not thinking that pastel Pam isn't at all unusual. Lucky him.

I wasn't so trusting. "Pam. What's wrong?"

She looked surprised for a second before she wiped her face clean and raised an eyebrow. "Nothing that I am aware of. Why?"

"It's just," I gestured to her clothes, "you look … different."

Pam glanced down and then stared at me before her mouth morphed into a glossy pink "O." She smirked, "You don't like Vera Wang?"

"Who?" _Was that another witch?_

"Sookie, this is what I wear when I'm not in Fangtasia. I'm in my street clothes. You've only seen me in my vampire clothes; we've found that our profits are larger if we feed into the public's perception and secret fantasies about vampires, hence the black and the latex and the leather. But Fangtasia is closed tonight for the supe meeting."

Huh. That was surprisingly logical. After all, I didn't wear my Merlotte's uniform when I wasn't working, and I always made it a point not to wear white shirts and black pants on my days off.

"Oh. Now, how did you describe Bobby Burnham to Eric?" I asked, figuring that could function as some sort of way to see if Pam wasn't bewitched.

"Bobby Burnham is Eric's bitch," she answered, staring at me with due cause. Okay, it was just plain old Pam, although better dressed. But something told me not to say that to her face.

I smiled. "Come on in."

Eric opened the door further and stepped aside to let her pass. Pam nodded and strolled over to sit in the same spot she sat in last time. Perhaps she enjoyed delivering life-altering news while seated comfortably. Eric and I sat on the couch, with me curled up next to Eric with my head resting on his chest and his arm around my shoulder. Pam raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"What's up?" I asked after we were all settled.

"What's up? How cute. Another quaint human saying. I'll add it to the list. What's up is that Eric mentioned that he did not like how you were walking into this blindly, and he said I needed to inform you of what will happen tonight. So here I am."

I looked up at Eric, touched by his thoughtfulness. "You didn't have to do that, Eric."

"Yes I did. What Pam said is true. You are doing everything for me knowing the consequences, so you should know why you are doing this," he replied, drawing me closer to him in a kind of half-hug.

"How was your day with the shifter?" Pam asked conversationally. I sighed and told her everything that happened, not liking how Eric had stiffened slightly at having to hear, for the second time tonight, about my going out to lunch and seeing a movie with Sam.

Pam looked pleased. "Very well. And the shifter will be at Fangtasia tonight?"

"Yes. And who will be joining him?" I asked, wanting to get right to business.

She laughed softly, thoroughly amused at my boldness. "The Shreveport Were pack will be there. I left a message with the packmaster late last night, and he just returned the call to report that a Were was found murdered in her bridal shop today, with the scent of the witches on the scene. Fortunately, Colonel Flood, the packmaster, has pledged to help us fight the witches."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Having witches after me was bad enough; at least I didn't have to worry about werewolves. Then I snorted at the thought. My life was so topsy-turvy right now.

I found Pam and Eric staring intently at me. Apparently vampires are not equipped with a vampire ability to know how to react when a human snorts for no reason at all. "I'm fine. Continue," I said, waving my hand.

"Colonel Flood is the leader of the pack; he is very respected, and even Eric once said he was not bad for a Were," Pam explained. I looked at Eric, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Do the Weres have rankings, like the army? Or secret Were code names? Is that why he's called Colonel Flood?" I asked, and immediately regretted it once Pam burst out laughing. I deflated into Eric's chest—it sounded like a reasonable question in my head!

"Pam. Answer the question," Eric scolded after he took one look at me trying to blend in with his blue jeans and white sweatshirt.

Chastened, Pam said, "No, his official title is the packmaster, and I neither know nor care to find out whether there is a ranking system within the pack. Colonel Flood is a retired Air Force colonel. He is the oldest and toughest Were, despite his age, and I trust him as much as I can trust a two-natured."

I nodded. Pam continued talking about the various Weres in the pack that she knew of, what Were habits were like, and other important information she thought I should know. It was really informative, once I pushed aside her biting commentary (sample quote: "Weres are like those people who walk really slowly and talk loudly on the phone but don't realize everyone hates them. Except Weres smell.").

She concluded her Were 101 lesson by adding, "Tonight we will strategize on how to recruit local Wiccans and other shifters to our cause. I have already rounded up some witches, and they are at Fangtasia. I thought maybe you could come over early and read their minds to see what they know about the Shreveport witches."

"Why me? Can't you just glamor them?" I blurted out. Was this some kind of test for me? To see if I was really telling the truth?

Pam looked at me sharply. "Yes, I could glamor them. However, I want to gauge your usefulness and see if you can read the witches."

"Sookie has already proved her usefulness on many occasions. It does not need to be questioned," Eric murmured dangerously.

"Of course, Eric," Pam conceded, nodding at him. "Still, the Weres are a tentative alliance at best. They are weary of our vampire abilities, glamoring included. Plus, I believe that if we have Sookie there, as a telepath, it would reflect that we have more supporters of our cause, supporters that do not have fangs."

"Very well," Eric replied, "Sookie, are you agreeable to this?"

I nodded my head against Eric's chest. He smiled down at me. Pam looked away.

"The faster we get to Fangtasia, the more time Sookie will have to read the witches before the meeting. Are you ready to leave now?" Pam asked after she was finished counting the flowers on the rug.

"Um, I just have to change but then we can go," I answered, reluctantly removing myself from Eric's embrace. Pam nodded, and I left her there with Eric in the living room.

I stood in front of my closet for the second time tonight. Geeze, if a vampire slept in my closet, a horny witch stopped by the local bar, and a werewolf owned a bridal store, you'd think there'd be a fairy godmother personal stylist to help me pick out clothes for this evening.

"I like the cranberry sweater."

I jumped and saw Eric sitting nonchalantly on the edge of the bed, looking very amused at my silly human reaction. Placing a hand over my heart, I glared at him, not trusting myself to speak just yet.

"Sorry. I don't like being left alone with Pam. I thought I'd come check up on you," he said in an apologetic tone.

"Why?"

He looked startled and replied, "I don't know, I'd rather be with you."

I blushed and walked over to him. "I appreciate that, Eric. But, uh, I was asking why you didn't like being left alone with Pam. She's your child, after all."

"She's always staring at me, tilting her head and asking a lot of questions. I don't like feeling incompetent."

"That makes you and me both. I have no idea what to expect tonight. Well, I guess you don't either. "

He nodded and I sat down next to him, leaning into his embrace. His arms encircled me and he kissed me on the forehead. "As much as I regret saying this, Pam wants us to leave as soon as possible."

I nodded into his chest but didn't move to get up. After some time, he gently released me and strolled over to the closet and I followed him. I grabbed the sweater and a pair of dark wash jeans. I started to move towards the door but then recognized the futility in that action. Surely Eric and I were close enough that I could just change in the same room as him? I peeked over at Eric, who was staring intently at the various knickknacks on my dresser. I turned to face the wall and quickly changed, turning to see Eric silently appraising me. I blushed at being caught. He didn't seem to mind, if the hungry expression on his face was any indication.

Without saying a word he took slow, deliberate steps over and laid a searing kiss on me. His fingers loosened my hair from my low ponytail and he lost his hands in my curls. I responded eagerly, feeling much bolder knowing that this was because of what Eric had seen while I was changing, the first time I had taken my clothes off in front of a man. His look and reaction made me feel beautiful and wanted, and I wasn't used to feeling this way.

He started kissing my neck, pausing with his mouth on my skin every so often. "You. Are. Gorgeous." He made his way back to my lips and hovered, my quivering lips barely touching his. "Simply gorgeous." I smiled, and he took that opportunity to reclaim my mouth.

"What's taking so long?" Pam shouted from downstairs, and I pulled back from Eric. Could she smell my arousal or hear us? I didn't even want to think about it. Eric watched my face rapidly change colors, from white to pink to tomato, and he thoughtfully patted my shoulder and told me not to care about what Pam thought. Yeah, easy for him to say. After all, it's my arousal that she can smell and my quickened breathing that she can hear, not his.

"Sorry about that," I mumbled to Pam when we finally came downstairs, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

"Are we ready to go?" Pam replied, gracefully standing up.

I nodded and she walked to the front door. Eric and I exchanged a glance and followed her. She dug something out of her purse and the light blue Honda minivan in the driveway chirps and lights up. Geeze, don't tell me Martha Stewart's waiting in the front seat with her homemade peanut butter-blood cookies and artificial blood smoothies.

"I'll escort you to Fangtasia," Pam called out over her shoulder, walking over to the driver's door. Eric looked at me.

I hesitantly asked, "Um, Pam, as much as I appreciate that, don't you think it'd be easier if I followed you and drive over with Eric?" Eric and I barely got to spend time together because of our very different sleeping schedules. I wanted every minute I could with him, especially after last night, even if it was just while driving in my car, and I was glad he seemed to feel the same way.

Pam stumbled, actually stumbled, before turning to look at us inquisitively. After some hideously long seconds passed, she barked, "Fine. Follow me."

Although Eric looked glad to be riding with me, his smile lessened slightly once he crammed himself in my tiny car.

"You have a crappy car," he said, maneuvering his seat to go back as far as it could—which, admittedly, was not very far.

"Yeah, well, you didn't seem to mind the last time you were in it," I replied. "Pam didn't seem too crazy about my idea, huh?"

"No, she did not."

"But why do you think that is? I mean, she seems to like me, and she worships you, so what gives?"

"Perhaps she heard what I said upstairs in your room, about me preferring her company to hers. You asking if you could drive alone with me would have cemented that."

"Oh. Poor Pam." I didn't like knowing I hurt her feelings, even if it was unknowingly. It must be hard to hear that her master would rather be with this human he'd only known for four days than with his child he'd been with for centuries.

Eric didn't say anything else on the matter, choosing instead to calmly ask if I would like to have food and go see a movie with him sometime. I swerved; thankfully there weren't any cars coming in the other direction.

"WHAT???"

"Pam said you went on a date with the shifter today. I just thought you might like to go on a date with me," Eric said in a curiously small voice.

"A date? With Sam? Me?" I cried out incredulously. Okay, now Pam's obsession with Dear Abby was just all sorts of bad. Who is she to determine if Sam and I went on a date, which we totally did not! We were just two friends of different genders spending the afternoon together—because she told me to! How dare she plant the wrong idea in Eric's empty mind! Wait, was that why Eric came upstairs to check up on me?

"Yes, a date. Pam says it's when two humans who are romantically interested in each other eat food at a restaurant and then go see a moving picture in a movie theater. Did Sam say you look pretty and kiss you goodnight on the front porch? I didn't smell him in our house, only on the driveway."

Our house. Eric had said "our house." Without even meaning to. My heart melted into a big pile of Eric-scented goo.

I reached over to hold his hand; I usually was a very cautious and careful driver, but I was willing to steer with one hand on the wheel if it allowed me to hold Eric's hand. He looked so wounded and vulnerable right now, and I wanted to comfort him, or comfort him as much as I could while still driving and keeping up with Pam's undercover daredevil driving in a soccer mom car. He had no reason to feel like he did now, and he needed to know that.

"I didn't go on a date with Sam, and I don't want to. I just needed something to do to pass the time until sunset, until I could be with you," I said truthfully. "And no, Sam did not kiss me. I don't want him to kiss me. The only person I want kissing me is you."

Eric squeezed my hand and looked more relaxed. "That makes me happy. You are the only person I want to kiss."

'_And hopefully do other things with_,' I thought, but I didn't say anything.

"And of course I want do more with you too, but that can wait," Eric grinned. I shook my head and smiled. At least he was honest with me.

"Well, you won't have to wait too long. That is, of course, if I manage to survive tonight," I joked, even though I was feeling much less confidant than I let on. I'd have to meet vampires and werewolves and shifters and witches—oh my! See, I'm past the "lions and tigers and bears" stage. Dorothy has nothing on me.

"Why are you scared?"

"I'm not really scared, I'm just nervous." And let me tell you, I wasn't anxious just because I wasn't sure about what kinds of small talk I could make with the Weres. Would it be considered bad form if I commented on how pretty the moon looked tonight?

"Sookie, you stopped to pick up a strange amnesiac vampire on the side of the road in the middle of the night and then took him home with you, all before meeting with his very angry and confused vampire peers and realizing that he was cursed by an evil witch. I think you will be okay."

Well, when Eric put it like that, I sounded like Super Sookie. I wished I could meet that girl. She seemed awesome.

"Plus, I promise I won't leave your side tonight. I will protect you at all times. You will be safe with me," he added, a spark of determination set in his eyes.

After Eric figured out how to turn the radio on without any help, something he seemed very proud of, he eagerly scanned the stations. He acted like such a kid because he'd only listen to a station for about five seconds before changing it. Eric seemed to like heavy metal songs, so we kept it on that channel for the rest of the drive. I wondered if that was the kind of music he enjoyed listening to before he was cursed, and I could tell he was pondering the same thing.

Interestingly enough, Fangtasia was located in a suburban shopping area of Shreveport, close to a Sam's and a Toys 'R Us. To be honest, I was expecting it to be on a cliff overlooking the sea or in the middle of a forest, but nope, the vampire bar was next to a toy store. Go figure.

At least the exterior of the bar lived up to expectations; the name of the place was spelled out in jazzy red lettering on a sign overlooking the bright red door, and the façade was painted a steel gray. There weren't that many cars in the parking lot than Pam sped into, but once I parked and started walking towards the door I could see that there was a "Sorry, We're Dead" sign hanging in the window. Nice.

"Do you always drive that slow or were you just occupied with bigger things tonight?" Pam asked as she unlocked the door.

"Nope, I was just showing off for you," I retorted. I could have sworn I saw a ghost of a smile in her eyes before she nodded and walked inside.

Eric and I followed, and he bumped into my back once I stopped to gape at the room. It looked like the interior designer threw up red, black, and gray paint, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. The walls were lined with framed pictures of every movie vampire who had ever shown fangs on the screen—from Nosferatu to Tom Cruise's Lestat—and pictures of the covers of famous vampire books. The only wall space that wasn't covered with pictures was occupied by red and white signs that were printed with messages like "Proceed at your own risk" or "No biting on premises."

The lighting was dim, much dimmer than Merlotte's, but that only added to the mysterious allure of the club, I guess. Black leather booths lined the walls, and a handful of black tables and chairs were in the middle of the club. The bar, which was the only bar I've ever seen with a rotating display of bottled blood at the end of it, took up the entire right side of the room; it was stationed next to a merchandise stand selling "Fangtasia" t-shirts, hats, and shot glasses. Apparently Fangtasia was the bar with a bite.

The most interesting aspect of the club was a magnificent and ornate gold throne, an _actual_ throne, which was placed high enough on its own stand that it overlooked the entire room. Pam noticed me gawking, so she smirked and said, "That's Eric's seat."

I turned to Eric, who looked pleased that he was the one who got to occupy that chair. Even by itself, the throne looked powerful and dangerous, and once Eric walked over and sat down he looked so regal I half expected him to dig around and pull out a bejeweled crown out from behind the red velvet seat cushion. Although he looked pompous and arrogant sitting on that throne, there was no denying that he also looked very natural and sexy. He looked like Dawn's Eric, not my Eric who preferred sitting on the floor wrapped up in an old quilt and getting excited when he figured out how to turn on the car radio.

He smiled and beckoned to me. "Come, sit," he said, patting his lap.

I obliged, leaning back against him comfortably; he wrapped his arms around my stomach and shifted a little to accommodate me. In my current position, I still wasn't as tall as he was, but even from my view the room and everything in it looked smaller. So this was what Eric saw normally. Huh.

Chow had entered the room and was now talking to Pam. After a few seconds they both glanced toward us briefly, and then continued their conversation.

I asked Eric what they were talking about. He dipped his head and whispered into my ear, "The local witches are in the next room. Pam wants to bring them out one-by-one and have you read their minds for information. Chow is not as trusting of you as Pam and I are, and he wants to glamor the witches instead."

"I like Pam's way better," I whisper back, not knowing what else I was supposed to say.

"We will have Sookie read the witches individually," Eric said, like he was talking to someone three yards in front of him instead of the hundred yards that separated him from the vampires, but both of them looked up and nodded, Pam a little smugly. She said something to Chow and he disappeared through a bright red double-door.

"Now it is time for you to be extraordinary," Eric whispered, kissing my cheek. Together we walked over to Pam, who gestured towards a table and two chairs. I sat down, but Eric remained standing next to Pam. I was about to say something when Chow reemerged with a woman with skin the color of coffee and steel gray hair pulled back in a severe bun. She looked like she could be a librarian or a school teacher, especially with her glasses and shiny black loafers. She looked like an anti-witch, but maybe that was because she was a good witch? Chow led her over to the other seat and then turned his attention to me, as did everyone else in the room.

"Hi, I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I said politely.

"Lucinda Masterson. Pleased to meet you," she responded in a distantly friendly tone.

"Sookie, listen to Lucinda," Chow ordered. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What exactly am I listening for?"

"Hallow sought out the local Wiccan coven and its members in Shreveport, and had a special meeting with them. You need to find out where their headquarters are, what they're planning for next, how many witches there are, and anything else you manage to find."

"And then what will you do?" I asked.

Chow seemed surprised. "We will use that information for tonight's meeting."

"What will you do with Lucinda and the other Wiccans?"

"We will turn them over to the Weres for safe-keeping during the day, to make sure they do not attempt to contact Hallow or any of her followers," he said ambiguously. I didn't like that.

"What do you mean, 'turn them over to the Weres?' They're not going to torture or kill these people, are they?"

Chow didn't answer, but Pam did. "No, that would not be wise. We want these witches on our side. For right now I will guarantee their safety and well-being, but I shall have to bring it up with the packmaster. We will worry about that later, though. You have a lot of required reading to catch up on."

I nodded. Good enough for me. I turned my attentions to Lucinda, who was a soft broadcaster. I could only pick up on small bits and phrases—_"knew this was bad … What will she … I hope that …."_

I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of hers. That was better. _"Such a sweet nice thing, but why do the vampires actually listen to her? What can she do?"_

"Lucinda, what do you know about Hallow?"

"Hallow's the leader of a very strong witch coven, the biggest and most powerful I have ever heard of. She's ruthless, that one. Her brother too. They drink vampire blood, which makes them dangerous. There are some Were-witches as well. That group, they're not like us," she answered, looking at my hand the whole time. She was telling the truth while wondering what I was doing and why I needed to ask her these questions.

"How are they different from you and the others?" I asked. I didn't know if I was supposed to engage in a conversation or wait for instructions from Chow, but I decided that since I was in charge of this I'd do what I wanted to do.

"We're more like Wiccans, and they're more like witches. They fit into the evil Halloween witch stereotype, and we don't."

"Who's 'we?' And what's the difference between Wiccans and witches?"

Lucinda replied, "'We' is the other witches in my coven. I'm assuming you'll meet with them later. If you're a witch, you practice magic rituals, drawing from a power most people never tap into. Being a witch isn't supposed to be wicked, but these witches are. As for the Wiccans, you follow a religion, mostly pagan ones. I myself follow the ways of the Mother. You can be both a Wiccan and a witch, or just one. We see ourselves as being mostly Wiccan, even though we occasionally practice a little witchcraft."

I could see that there were about six other people in her coven, four females and two males. One of them was Holly. Holly from Merlotte's. Holly who missed a day of work and I filled in for her.

"Holly's a witch?" I gasped. Lucinda looked surprised, as did the vampires.

"Yes. She's our newest member of the coven, and is very promising. I must say, she did not take well to meeting Hallow."

"Sookie, who is Holly?" Eric questioned softly. I turned to look at his worried gaze. I guess me recognizing a witch, even though she was a good witch (like Glinda, I thought), would be pretty distressful.

"Holly works with me at Merlotte's," I explained, and Eric's nostrils flared. "Don't worry, she's a good witch. Apparently she's in the back room where the rest of the other witches are."

Chow nodded distractedly, his eyes never leaving Lucinda. I followed his gaze to find her staring at me, like one would study a particularly interesting bug.

Once she saw she had my attention, she said, "You're the psychic, aren't you? Holly said she worked with a girl who everyone thought was crazy. And you are, in your own way, aren't you? You're a telepath, that's what you are."

"Yes, I am. So I'll know if you're telling the truth," I bristled. I knew she didn't mean anything by it, but I didn't like being called crazy, especially by people who barely knew me.

She looked taken aback, as did the vampires. I continued, "So if you're not like Hallow, how do you know so much about her?"

Lucinda answered, "Hallow is quite infamous in the witchcraft community. But I know most about her because she sent out a call for all local witches, for a summit, and I had to attend. She tried to impose her will on us, especially me because I am the coven leader. But I was not impressed with her commitment and power and drug use, and the rest of the witches here weren't either. Those that were, however, are staying with her."

I could see where Hallow was staying and holding the meetings; it was in an old warehouse somewhere past the exit for the Pierre Bossier Mall. I proudly relayed this highly useful information to the vampires; Chow nodded coolly, Pam smiled, and Eric winked. Lucinda then answered how many witches there were (about twelve originally, but she didn't know how many local witches had switched over) and whether there were any prisoners (not that she knew of) and then Chow led her back to wherever she had come from.

Eric was beaming at me, and I soaked it all up. This was the first time I had purposefully demonstrated my telepathy in front of an audience, and Eric's reaction was very helpful and encouraging. I almost felt stronger because of his gaze.

The rest of the witches mostly said, and thought, the same as Lucinda, and then it was time for Holly. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped as soon as she saw me talking animatedly with Eric and Pam.

"Sookie? What are you doing here?" Holly shrieked. Apparently none of the other witches had told her what was happening or who they were meeting with.

"I'm helping the good guys," I answered, reflecting on the irony; since when are vampires considered the good guys? When fighting evil witches, I guess.

"What do they have on you? Those witches? They threatened me about my boyfriend, said they'd curse him and make him hate me or start hittin me. That's the only reason why I went to their meeting, I swear!" Holly cried hysterically.

She was telling the truth. Holly had been working in Merlotte's the day that Hallow, or Marnie, had come in, and somehow Hollow could tell Holly was a witch and she had cornered her in the employee room, her smile widening as she casually listed all of the different forms of torture and spells her special powers had armed her with, tools she could use to make Holly's life miserable. Holly hadn't been the only witch blackmailed into helping Hollow.

I hugged Holly, who started crying on my shoulder. She was really shook up about this; she hadn't left her house in days (which was why she called in sick) until the pizza delivery man, Chow, rang her doorbell and then the next thing she knew she was in Fangtasia and seeing me at the table. Huh, I'd have to talk to Chow about the excess glamoring, or what I thought was glamoring; her memory had deliberate holes in it, like Swiss cheese.

Once she calmed down I talked to her some more, and then Chow accompanied her to the back room.

As soon as she was out the door, Eric offered his hand to help me out of the chair and hugged me. "You were fantastic," he whispered in my hair. "I am very proud of you."

"Yes, Sookie, you did not disappoint," Pam called out as she walked behind the bar. "Care for a drink?"

"Gin and tonic, please," I answered, walking over to the bar. Pam the bartender? This I had to see.

Pam opened up a small handbook, which she briefly studied before gathering the materials needed to make a gin and tonic. She handed me a glass, and I sipped; it tasted like a regular gin and tonic, but I was grateful for it. I thanked Pam and asked if she was the bartender, to which she laughed and said that Chow was. I thought Pam seemed more of a people person that grumpy old Chow, but maybe that was just me.

As I savored my drink, Pam said we had a half hour before the supes arrived and we were free to look around. Before she went to find Chow, she told Eric where to find his office. I exchanged a look with him, and he took my hand as he followed her directions.

We giddily scampered down a long corridor before entering his office, a corridor that was similar to the one that led to Sam's office and the back rooms at Merlotte's; even so, Fangtasia's in a whole other stratosphere than Sam's backwoods bar.

Eric stopped in front of the door that Pam said led to his office; it looked like a regular wooden door to me, not the office headquarters of a businessman and authoritative figure such as Eric. He didn't seem to mind, as he waggled his eyebrows at me and opened the door all the way revealing … an office. Not a secret dungeon lair. Not a little bat cave. Just an office—and a cluttered office at that.

Unlike the rest of Fangtasia, the walls in Eric's office were white. I could see a few landscape paintings, each one depicting a different daytime scene: snowy woods, the sun setting over a field, the beach. It looked like there are a bunch of different-sized windows on the wall, windows showing different parts of the outside world, or the outside world as painted by artists over the centuries. I wonder if all vampires missed seeing the sun like Eric apparently did.

Besides the wall hangings, the most impressive aspect of the room was the grand wooden desk and the large leather desk chair behind it. I guessed that Eric always sat in that desk during important meetings. If he looked half as intimidating then as he did now, sitting in that chair, then I could see why he was such a successful businessman. He ruined that power image when he leaned back and stretched his legs to rest on the desk, taking care not to hit the telephone or the lamp or the stacks of papers or the Viking ship in a bottle or the other desk doodads on the mahogany table.

I sat down across from him, timidly perching on one of the two wooden chairs in front of the desk. Eric didn't notice; he was too busy drinking in the rest of the office, which was understandable. From the looks of things, Eric spent a lot of time back here; there were black filing cabinets and book shelves holding books, notepads, binders, and other office supplies. But I stopped paying attention to that once Eric jumped out of his seat and zoomed over to the left side of the room.

I watched him reach out and grab a small white iPod—it had to be his iPod. Although I could only see part of his profile, his smile was large enough for me to see in my position. He pocketed the gadget and meticulously looked over everything else in the room, bringing his face closer to the portraits and opening all of the desk drawers to dig around.

I felt like an intruder. This was Eric's opportunity to learn about his past self, a highly personal and revealing moment, and I didn't want to force myself in the situation. While he was flipping through a notebook, I quietly tiptoed out of the room and softly shut the door. This was Eric's time, not mine.

I wandered back into the deserted bar area of Fangtasia and sat down at the bar, which, after close inspection, was stocked with lots of fancy and expensive alcohol that Sam never carried. Also, Sam didn't carry blood, so I could add that to the long list of differences between Merlotte's and Fangtasia. I finished my gin and tonic and, for lack of anything else to do, went behind the counter and fixed myself another one.

After some time, Eric walked back in with Pam, Chow, and a few other vampires; Gerald, Thalia, and a tall man whose name escaped me. They all chatted together in low, muted voices until Eric broke away and came over to sit next to me, temporarily halting their conversation. Once they stared at us for an awkward amount of time, they resumed talking.

"How are you handling everything?" Eric asked, reaching over and taking my hand.

"Ask me again at the end of all of this," I joked feebly. Eric scowled.

"You do not need to worry, Sookie."

"I know, but that's not stopping me from worrying. What are they talking about?" I asked, pointing my chin in the direction of the vampires.

"Vampire stuff," he replied. I snorted. I thought I was the only one who referred to vampire stuff as, well, vampire stuff.

He glanced at my raised eyebrow and explained, "They are strategizing. I do not care to be involved in that when you're all by yourself and I can sit and talk to you instead."

Wow. Based on what I've seen and heard about Eric and his work, that seemed like a complete contrast to the warrior businessman. But I quickly dismissed that thought.

Eric complimented me on my sweater, and I then realized he had changed into a black tank top, black pants, and black leather flip flops. And with arms like that, I don't know how the heck I didn't notice his wardrobe change earlier. He had pulled his hair back with a leather band, showing off his neck; I never knew how sexy a neck could be until I saw Eric's neck. Shoot, was this how vampires always felt? Because I wouldn't mind biting Eric's neck right now … or licking it … or kissing it. Wait, stupid vampire senses! Cool your jets. I said Eric looked very handsome, and he grinned while telling me that he found the spare change of clothes in the closet of his office and he wanted to try them on.

I was distracted by Eric's new look by the large group of people that just walked through the front door; I could tell right away they were vampires. Most of them joined the vampire huddle, but one, a man who looked like an American Indian with long coal black hair twisted in a braid and a handful of tribal-looking tattoos on his arms, bypassed them and came straight towards me and Eric. He bowed solemnly.

"Eric, it is I, Long Shadow. I am the manager of your other businesses located near the bottom of Area Five. We have known each other for centuries. I am sorry to hear of your present condition, but I am resolved to help fix it," he said majestically as he straightened.

I looked over at Pam, who was monitoring us. She nodded in Long Shadow's direction—to confirm he was telling the truth, I guess. Eric followed my gaze and then turned back to Long Shadow and nodded.

"Very well. Thank you for coming tonight, Long Shadow."

"My pleasure," he replied, leering at me and showing fang. Eric tensed.

Pam made her way over. "Long Shadow, nice to see you again. Come, we have much to discuss."

After staring at me for a few more seconds, Long Shadow obliged and followed Pam through the doors leading to the back of the building. I wondered if they were going to Eric's office, but that wasn't any of my business. And Eric didn't seem to notice or care, as he resumed talking with me and trying to make me feel less anxious. He was proving to be very adept at that, as I was engrossed in his descriptions of the various things he had stored in his desk drawers—evidently he was very good at crossword puzzles, as there was an entire drawer filled with dozens of completely filled puzzle books. He seemed as baffled by the revelation as I was.

It wasn't until we were giggling about the vampire porn magazine Eric had found in one of the back rooms (apparently necks were the target focus, not the boobs or butt, and although I didn't know why he felt the need to tell me this I appreciated his openness) that we noticed that the room had gone silent as the other vampires stopped talking to gaze at the new batch of people. Pam appeared behind the bar and placed a hand on Eric's shoulder. He stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at her, then swiveled when she nodded in the direction of the door.

I turned and looked too. An older, distinguished man (Colonel Flood?) with a white buzz cut was standing in front of a large group of different men and women of all ages and races; they didn't look like Weres—they weren't excessively hairy and they didn't have long fingernails or anything else like that. They looked like regular people. Heck, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if Pam told me Jason turned into a unicorn every Sunday morning.

The man stared at the group of vampires like he was looking for someone, and I think he found that person once his gaze landed on Eric, because his eyes widened slightly, as did the eyes of every person standing behind him. All the vampires turned to see what the colonel was staring at, and the only way to accurately describe the silence that blanketed the room is that it was deadly.

Pam noticed and confidently strode over to the Weres. "Colonel Flood, thank you for coming," she said, playing the part of the gracious hostess.

The packmaster recovered and replied, "Yes, Pam. Thank you for having us."

They did some more social dosey-doing before Pam motioned for the Weres to sit down and ordered Chow and Long Shadow start fixing drinks for everyone. Eric and I received a lot of strange looks, some better disguised than others. I had to throw my shields up because although I couldn't read any comprehensive thoughts, I still received the general gist of what everyone was thinking: what the fuck happened to Eric Northman and who was the blonde bimbo with huge boobs?

Colonel Flood walked over to where Eric and I were sitting at the bar; no one took the stools closest to us, even though people were standing awkwardly against the walls.

The packmaster extended his hand toward me and introduced himself, saying, "Miss Stackhouse. I have heard much about you, and you certainly live up to expectations, as would anyone who manages to keep up with Northman for over four days."

I laughed appreciatively, as did he, and replied, "Thank you, sir. Please, call me Sookie."

He then turned to Eric. "Northman, any doubt that I had about your amnesia is gone. I've only met with you a handful of times, but I can tell. You haven't sneered once, and I've never seen you this happy."

Eric looked bewildered before he recovered and smiled weakly. Honestly, what do you say to that? I wanted to hug him, but I was afraid that would emasculate him in a time when his amnesia already made him a target.

Thankfully, Pam, ever the perfect hostess, intervened and laughed, "Yes, that's our Eric. So, Colonel, what's your drink?"

She led the packmaster away, leaving me and Eric in silence. I feigned interest in a picture of Brad Pitt from _Interview with the Vampire_ (not that that was so hard), but out of the corner of my eye I saw a very stunned-looking Eric shake his head in disbelief and mouth the words, "Never seen you this happy."

I nervously played with the black Fangtasia cocktail napkin printed with fake drops of blood and tried to come up possible conversation starters, something I thought I'd never have to do with Eric. Thankfully, Pam clinked her bottle of TrueBlood with a fork (where'd she find a fork in Fangtasia?) and immediately gathered everyone's attention.

"So everyone knows why we're here. Hallow's coven is provoking the supernatural creatures in Shreveport. She has drawn blood, and even more, from a vampire and a Were. She needs to be stopped."

Some of the younger Weres started howling and cheering, but they were instantly silenced with a single glance from Colonel Flood. He nodded at Pam to continue.

She raised her bottle in acknowledgement and continued, "I know Weres and vampires don't usually mix, but the only way we can defeat Hallow is by working together. I know that, you know that, we all know that, and we all need to do that. Weres, this is your chance to avenge the wrongful murder of Annabelle Yancy. Vampires, this is your chance to avenge the possible murder of Clancy, and this is your chance to avenge Eric's curse. The witches need to be stopped, and we're the only ones that can stop them."

Colonel Flood made his way over so he was standing next to Pam. In a surprisingly loud and clear voice he called, "The leaders of the group are trying to take over not only the vampire's territory, but also ours. But with the vampire-Were alliance, they will not succeed. Not if we can help it."

Now people started cheering and howling, and this time Colonel Flood joined in. Even Pam gave a small yet very dignified "whoo."

After the noise died down Colonel Flood said, "So. Let's get started, shall we?"

Pam nodded. "We already have intelligence on the whereabouts of the witches."

Colonel Flood looked surprised, and he testily murmured, "I was not aware of this, Pam."

In an even tone, Pam replied, "Nor was I, Colonel, until fifteen minutes ago. Sookie Stackhouse read the minds of the local witches who attended Hallow's meeting."

Colonel Flood looked at me, no doubt waiting for an explanation. I hastily recounted everything I had learned from the interviewing sessions.

"Nice work. I'll have my best trackers on the lookout for the exact location. I have to say, Sookie, I am very pleased with you."

All of the Weres looked at me curiously. Obviously the first-name basis and personal compliment from the packmaster had elevated my status from blonde bimbo to respectable woman. I supposed I had earned my keep.

Colonel Flood was smiling kindly in a grandfatherly way, Eric was grinning brilliantly, Pam had arranged her mouth in a non-smirk, and everyone else in the building was gawking at me. I blushed and dipped my head, not used to being the center of attention or having my telepathy be worthy of respect, not ridicule.

I cleared my throat and asked, "So, what happens after we find the witches' headquarters?"

Pam and the colonel exchanged glances. Pam responded, "First off, thank you for not saying 'if we find the witches' headquarters,' Sookie. I like your positive attitude. We will find the witches, and we will destroy them. Once we locate them, then we shall have another meeting to discuss our battle tactics. Because this is war. Supernatural blood has been shed."

"You're just pissed because you didn't get to lick it up," a redheaded Were in a leather jacket and jeans piped up.

No one spoke. Pam was livid, and the colonel actually snarled.

"That is so not true," I blurted. And it wasn't. The vampires had lost more than the Weres, if the woman had bothered to keep tally. They had lost Eric to amnesia and Clancy to his final death, and while I felt awful about the Were's horrible and unnecessary death, nothing cleared the fact that the vampires had lost two and the Weres lost one. Although with the way this woman was behaving, the Weres might end up tying the vampires pretty soon.

"You would side with them, you vamp humping bitch," she snarled, not noticing that almost every person in this room was glaring at her.

Well, I've had worse things said about me, but not to my face and not by people who wanted me to hear them. First time for everything.

Eric leaped out of his seat. And suddenly the woman was sprawled on the ground flat on her back and with Eric on top of her, his fangs extended, before anyone could even be alarmed. Luckily, Pam and Chow were just as fast as Eric, and together they forcefully lifted him off of the shaking Were. She was bleeding a little, but she was yelping (like an annoying little dog) nonstop.

Although only one other Were had rushed over to the redhead's side, I thought the whole room would erupt in battle. Judging by everyone's tense body language I wasn't the only one; even Pam looked a little panicked, but that might have been because she was struggling to contain an enraged Eric.

"ENOUGH!" Colonel Flood roared, and everyone stopped to look at him. With a powerful voice like that, it'd be hard not to. I had no idea what he was going to say. I don't think anyone did.

Colonel Flood cleared his throat and walked over to the Were, fully aware that he was being watched. He stood over the redhead and calmly but forcefully stated, "Amanda, you would do well to be polite to our allies and keep your damn opinions to yourself. Your offense cancels out the blood he spilled."

The one Were who had been helping Amanda straightened and snarled at his packmaster, who simply ordered, "No retaliation, Parnell." Parnell begrudgingly nodded and turned his attention back at Amanda, who suddenly began yelping again now that she had an audience.

Then the colonel carefully made his way over to me. "Sookie, I apologize for the poor manners of the pack. You can be sure that an incident like this will not happen again."

Now I could feel the stares of almost everyone in the room, and I idly wondered how Colonel Flood managed it. I forced myself to nod, blinking back tears without knowing why I was crying. I snuck a peek at Eric, who looked a little calmer, but with great effort; Pam was murmuring in his ear and Chow was gripping his arm.

The front door opened and everyone swiveled to see who it was: a very sheepish Sam. He stopped dead in his tracks once he saw the redheaded Were dabbing at her bloody elbow, Eric being restrained by Pam and Chow, Colonel Flood with his hands on his hips, and me bracing myself against the bar. He mumbled, "Sorry I'm late," and sat down in the closest chair to him. He looked very surprised and tense, and I didn't blame him. He picked an awful time to come in.

Colonel Flood walked over to where he was originally standing and took a long swig of his drink. Everyone relaxed slightly. I could tell Sam was trying to catch my eye but I deliberately watched Eric mutter something to Chow, who released his hold on Eric.

"Sookie, you have to work early tomorrow, yes? We'll contact you if anything else happens in this meeting," Pam called out from across the room.

Sam started to open his mouth and I hurriedly answered, "Yes, of course Pam. It was nice meeting everyone. Take care." I didn't know why she was lying, but I figured Pam was the kind of girl who always had a plan and right now it was better for me to just go with the flow than stop and question her in front of a nosey crowd. As I purposefully strode towards the door, it occurred to me that she probably wanted me to take Eric home to cool off. Which was a pretty smart idea, because Eric's fists were still clenched and his fangs were half extended and his eyes were glowing a fiery blue, so hot and full of passion it hurt to look at them. They were the sun to me.

I grabbed Eric's hand and hustled out of the building, and Pam followed right behind us. I knew Eric could have fought me if he wanted to, but he didn't and I was very grateful.

Pam all but shoved Eric into the passenger seat and barked, "We'll call you later, go now."

I was going to comment on her snippy behavior, but one look at Eric caused me to instead nod and turn the car on. She then zoomed back into Fangtasia, probably to do some major damage control that Dear Abby had never had to deal with, leaving me with one very angry vampire, one very crappy car, and one helluva ride home.

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**A/N: I hope you liked this chapter! For some reason I always have more fun writing the vampire action-y parts than the E/S scenes. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **

**Thank you to chiisai-kitty for going over this with me and engaging in wildly inappropriate yet hilarious email cha about sex-ed and hot chocolate. **

**Note: borrowed some phrases from CH, pretty sure you'll be able to figure out which ones ;) Just felt like it didn't work without them. **

**-_-_-_-_-_-_**

For seventeen minutes Eric didn't say anything, but his body language definitely did. He glared at the window, almost daring it to start calling me names, and sat on his hands; his posture was rigid, his shoulders tense, and his eyes almost glowed white in the dark interior of the car. I drove in a deadly silence, wondering, much like the first time I had driven Eric, who was this man and how did I get myself mixed in with him.

We were halfway home before Eric spoke. "Why are vampires so hated by Weres?" he asked in a noticeably controlled tone.

I frowned. I was expecting him to talk about me or him or the Were or, hell, even Chow's ridiculous obsession with vests, but not about the socio-political relationship between two different supernatural species. "Um, I don't really know."

He looked out the window and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Schmucking Schmam" before exasperatedly running his fingers through his hair.

Searching for a way to calm him down, I gently murmured, "Listen, Eric, I want you to know that I really appreciate what you did or tried to do back there, with that whole Amanda thing, but you didn't have to. I'm used to speaking up for myself when I think it's called for. I can handle that kind of treatment."

"You shouldn't have to!" Eric exploded, turning to face me and gesturing wildly with his hands. "You shouldn't have to be used to speaking up for yourself! You shouldn't have to be used to taking insults from judgmental scum! You shouldn't have to work alone at night because your brother does not provide for you! You have done nothing to deserve any of the horrible things you so calmly describe! You are kind and intelligent and thoughtful and so much more and you shouldn't be punished because of that!"

Startled by his uncharacteristic outbreak, I snapped, "I know Eric, believe me I know. But that's just how it's always been. You can't change people, and you can't tell people how to think or how to act. You have to let them be."

Eric opened his mouth, and I realized the fundamental flaw in my argument, that Eric _could_ tell people how to think and act because of his vampire glamoring skills. I quickly added, "You can't glamor people into liking me, Eric, that's not how it works. And besides, if you tried to attack every person who ever had a not-so-nice thought about me, you'd get pretty hurt even with your vampire strength. So don't. I mean, if I was a vampire you wouldn't feel obligated to hit people who thought poorly of me, now would you?"

"But you're not as strong as a vampire, or even a Were," he said plainly, like that explained everything, like that gave him justification.

I sighed. To him, I was vulnerable and weak, feminine and mortal; I needed to be protected at all times, like a priceless glass figurine. This was his Viking background kicking in. And if a powerful curse couldn't erase or alter this way of thinking and acting, then I knew I sure as hell couldn't. I needed to back the fuck away from the modern feminism ideas that I adhered to, because that would get me nowhere. I needed a new approach. And I couldn't afford to get pissed off at Eric and his medieval (and even earlier) mindset, because one of us needed to be rational and clearly that person wasn't going to be Eric.

What to do, what to do? I carefully replied, "I know I'm not, but even if I was I wouldn't have retaliated like that and tried to hit her. That would give her a reason to hit me back and hate me even more."

"You're saying I made it come to blows when I didn't need to," he said after several long seconds, focusing on the passing trees with disgust, like they too had insulted me.

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"I embarrassed you," he replied in a wounded voice, turning to face me and see my reaction.

"No," I replied instantly, shaking my head vehemently. If anyone was embarrassed, it should be him, anyways. But I'm pretty sure that fell under the category of what not to say to an angry vampire. "No. You didn't embarrass me, Eric. To be honest, it, uh, made me feel all squiggly inside that you liked me that much to be that angry when Amanda acted like I was a dead skunk she hit with her car."

"Squiggly?" Eric asked after a beat, his mouth turning up at the corners. Thank the Lord.

His smile was contagious. "Yeah. Squiggly. You know, warm and fuzzy. I liked knowing you wanted to protect me."

"Then it was worth it to feel that angry, to make you feel that good," he said truthfully.

It was almost too honest of a statement, something that you think but never say out loud. But I welcomed it. I casually rested an elbow on the armrest between our seats, with my hand palm face-up. I didn't want to mother-smother Eric, but I grinned toothily when he easily laced his fingers through mine.

He was quiet for the rest of the car ride, so I was too. Unlike before, it wasn't a strained or scary silence; it was more like a cozy, tired silence that Eric broke once I parked the car in the driveway. Turning to face me, he said, "I don't understand why humans can't see what an amazing person you are. It angers me."

My mouth opened and closed when I realized I didn't know what to say. No one had ever said anything like that to me. I smiled sadly and brought his hand to my lips before getting out of the car. Eric stayed in his seat, but I didn't notice until I finished walking up the porch steps. When I did, I leaned against the door frame, watching him watch me.

Finally he opened the car door and was instantly right in front of me. All I could see was _blueblueblueblueblue_, my new favorite color. He murmured, "Every night I find a new reason to be glad I know you."

"I know how you feel," I whispered back, leaning forward to kiss him. He met me halfway, and all of the pent-up energy and frustration he had smoothed over in the car came out to play. He backed me up against the door and nibbled and sucked and licked and kissed me halfway to next Tuesday. I loved every second of it.

I forced myself to release his face, which I had been caressing, and fumble for the doorknob behind me; of course, my hands made a few essential pit-stops at Eric's neck, back, and chest before they connected with the cold metal. Once I made contact, I opened the door and, still sucking on Eric's lip, tried to walk backwards into the house. After I stumbled, Eric lifted me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist and continue exploring his mouth without any danger of hurting myself; unlike last time, I was now able to kiss Eric without cutting my tongue thanks to all the practice I had received. And was currently receiving. Eric was a good coach.

We stayed like that for a long time, just me, Eric, and our kisses. Eric was still standing in the middle of the open doorway, and once I started shivering (from a pleasant combination of the frosty January air and the way Eric's tongue was making me feel) I breathed, "Upstairs."

Without even turning around he kicked the door closed and strode over to the stairs, all the while never breaking the kiss. I squeezed my legs tightly around him, not wanting him to drop me, and I felt something stir under his deliciously tight pants as our bodies became even closer. I repeated the motion, causing Eric to moan and start walking with a little more determination in his step.

Next thing I knew we were in my bedroom and Eric was crouching over to tenderly lay me on the bed, with one hand behind my head and the other supporting his weight on the covers. The position he was in seemed so animalistic, so predatory, but the way he was ensuring that I make contact with the warm bedspread so gently was incredibly romantic and touching.

I was properly set down with my hair fanning across the plain white comforter and my chest heaving rapidly in an attempt to refill my lungs with all of the air that had been sucked out of me. But Eric made no move to join me, choosing instead to remain standing and gaze worshipfully at me.

I slowly started inching the hemline of my shirt higher, crossing my arms in an X-shape as I lifted the cranberry sweater that Eric had liked so much over my head. I hoped he would like it better when it wasn't covering me, and I was right. The intense longing and desire in his eyes made me burn for his touch. Luckily for me, as soon as the sweater was over my head Eric was taking its place, kissing all of the skin that he'd never seen before and ogling my plain white bra like it was made of blood (which, as disturbing as it sounds, is the only way I can accurately describe Eric's expression).

I eyed the tank top that I had admired earlier, since it exposed Eric's exquisite arms and neck, but now the damn piece of clothing was downright rude and annoying for being in the way. Eric noticed my staring and removed his shirt with vampire speed; one second there was black cotton and the next there was skin and abs and muscles and nipples and I wanted to touch everything, a desire Eric quickly fulfilled when he positioned himself on top of me with his hardness pressing against my thigh.

He felt large, heavy, and magnificent. I slowly made my way down Eric's long body to reach between us and palm the only thing that was making me nervous. From what I had seen, and was now feeling for the first time, Eric's "manhood" (to use a worn phrase from the spine-cracked romance novels that up until recently had served as the most romantic parts of my small life) was very daunting and intimidating. I felt like a small-town musician who was just handed a limited-edition guitar and was told she could perform at Madison Square Garden.

What if I screwed up? What if I completely embarrassed myself because of my complete inexperience with males and their male bodies? What if I did something wrong? What if I didn't make it good for Eric?

Eric, who was the first man to see me as close to naked as I've ever been seen by a man. Eric, who always paid me compliments and made me feel good about myself and even just life in general. Eric, who trusted me more than anyone else. Eric, who knew more about me than anyone else. Eric, who was familiar with my telepathy and my virginity but was still nibbling my ear, his long hair softly brushing my chest. Eric, who in his amnesiac state could technically be called a virgin and had no other experiences to compare.

Eric, who was Eric.

Emboldened, I fumbled with the button of his black pants with one hand, as my other hand was currently stroking the back of Eric's head as he kissed the skin escaping from my bra. He rocked his hips and shuddered. As welcome as those actions were, they made it very difficult for me to focus on my task; they felt wonderful against my yearning that was building up down below. I felt my body go hot.

Once I unbuttoned and unzipped him, Eric lifted his hips so I could take off his pants, running my hands down his backside that I had often fantasized about but never actually got to touch. My eyes popped open once I realized Eric wasn't wearing any underwear. He felt every bit as good as he looked and then some. I may or may not have taken a lot of time and effort to reach that conclusion.

He pulled back to step out of his pants and while he was up he used the opportunity to free me from my jeans. I thanked him by reaching behind his head and bringing him closer to me, kissing him with everything I had.

"Are you sure, fair maiden?" Eric murmured in a thick voice.

"I've been sure ever since I came home and found myself almost scared to death at the thought of the witches taking you away from me," I answered truthfully.

And then I totally killed the romantic mood by squeaking, "Do vampires need to wear condoms?"

Eric shook his head no in the crevice of my neck, and my heart soared when he didn't laugh or pause; he just nibbled my earlobe. I didn't think he needed one (there weren't any vampire-friendly condoms at Walmart) but I wanted to make sure.

Now that that was cleared up, I made my way down and hesitantly closed my lips around his nipple.

"Bite, a little," he said, and I used my teeth, scraping lightly. His hands began to move restlessly over whatever bit of my skin they could find, stroking and teasing until they trickled over behind my back to unclasp my bra. He ducked his head and reciprocated by taking my breast in his mouth, sucking and biting while his nimble fingers played with the other one. I pressed my hands behind his head, breathing raggedly.

When his mouth closed over my other breast, his hand glided down. I reacted by rocking my hips to meet his fingers. He had long fingers. Right now I loved his fingers. And later, when he moved his face away from mine and started kissing down my body, I _loved_ his tongue; it made me melt into a pile of Sookie goo and Eric continued licking me up until I pulled myself together after my first orgasm, which was so stupendous I wanted more.

I became closer to having my wish granted when Eric positioned himself at my entrance. "My lover," he said hoarsely, and then he pushed in.

I closed my eyes and cried out with the shock of it; I knew it would hurt and thought I had prepared myself, but still. After a few thrusts, I forgot all about the pain; I forgot all about my inexperience and hesitation and trepidation. All I could think about was Eric and how he was making me feel and how I was making him feel. It was fantastic.

After a moment, he said, "Don't close your eyes. Look at me, lover." I almost orgasmed again right there at the way he caressed his, what will always be his, endearment, but then he pulled out and I whimpered with the aching loss.

"Watch me," he said in my ear. I squirmed to try and keep him in, hazily registering that he was kissing parts of my body that I liked very much but wished he'd overlook in favor of the one part of me that really needed him right now. Even so I found myself drifting off to that happy place Eric had recently helped me discover, his fingers mercifully filled the void he had left behind.

He locked eyes with me as his mouth became closer and closer to my center, to make sure I was watching—of course I was— and he turned his face to my inner thigh, nuzzling as his fingers moved faster and faster and faster until he suddenly bit down on a place where I never would could elicit so much pleasure. _So much pleasure._ For an amnesiac, he sure knew what he was doing.

And once I came back down Eric was up kissing my mouth again, hungrily, sloppily, beautifully. I could taste my own fluids on him. Then he was back inside me, and it happened all over again. His moment came right after, as I was still experiencing heavenly waves of aftershocks; he shouted something in a language I'd never heard, and maybe no one had ever heard, before closing his own eyes and collapsing on top of me. I noticed that my panting was the only sound in the room, but I was too busy smiling and beaming at him, at me, at the world, to care. After a couple of minutes, he raised his head to look down, asking me to speak with his eyes.

"Eric … oh, Eric," I murmured, feeling too awed and dumbstruck to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. I reached up to tuck a wanton piece of hair behind his ear before continuing, "Eric, that was … I never … you made me … I'm so happy you were my first."

I would never forget this; I was confident I would never forget his taste and smell and body and touch even if an evil witch cursed me. I wanted to remember this for the rest of my life. My first time, my first pleasure, my first … love?

His eyes widened before he broke out into the biggest smile I had ever seen, not just on him but on anyone. He swooped down and kissed me his thanks in a definitely non-polite manner.

"You never said if you'd go on a date with me," he deadpanned, joining in with me as I roared with laughter.

"Of course I'll go on a date with you, sweetie," I replied, cupping his face. He beamed and nuzzled my hand with his cheek. After a few seconds passed, I shyly asked, "Eric, was it as good for you as it was for me?"

"No," he replied, and I'm pretty sure my heart stopped. "It was better, lover. You were amazing."

"You don't have to be nice, Eric," I said automatically. I wasn't fishing for compliments; I just couldn't fathom how a girl like me, with absolutely no sexual experience whatsoever, would manage to please a man. A man like Eric.

His eyes clouded darkly before he responded, "Sookie, I am telling the truth. You. Were. Amazing. You. Are. Amazing." To demonstrate, he kissed my collar bone in between words before pouring his soul into a kiss that I felt everywhere on my body, especially down below. I believed him now. Especially now that I had hard evidence of just how amazing he thought I was.

That wasn't the only part of Eric getting busy again; his hands were everywhere, encouraging my body to have its way. Before I gave myself into the feeling, I used my last lucid thought to ask Eric if he thought it'd be a good idea if I had some of his blood to heal. He was very receptive to the idea, instantly bringing up his wrist to his mouth. Before he bit down, I reached up and stopped him, unfolding his fist and extending his pointer finger. He understood and pricked his finger, and I sucked on it purposefully. Eric's blood was full of contradictions: blood shouldn't taste that heavenly but his does and I shouldn't be taking blood from the vampire but I was, even enjoying it much like a vampire.

Eric gasped and wriggled against me, and I could tell that he liked what I was doing. After I thought I'd had enough blood, I released his finger and his mouth was instantly on mine. Then he dipped his head and sucked one breast with his fangs extended, watching me as he drew a little blood and a sharp gasp from me. Eric was proving himself to be very, very creative tonight. It was a strange sensation, painful and very pleasurable. I felt like he was drawing the fluid from much lower, because that's how sensual it was. And suddenly he raised my leg so he could enter me.

It wasn't such a shock this time, and it was slower. Deliciously slower. Eric wanted me to be looking into his eyes; that obviously flicked his Bic. I enjoyed it immensely. I'd heard a lot about men who didn't care if the woman had her pleasure, or perhaps such men assumed that if they were happy, their partner was, too. I was so lucky that Eric wasn't one of them.

Eric had paid me many compliments, and I realized I hadn't said anything to him that indicated my admiration since my blubbering earlier. That hardly seemed fair. He was holding me, and my head was on his shoulder. I murmured into his neck, "You are so beautiful."

"What?" He was clearly startled, and I could feel him move his head to look down at me, his hair tickling my forehead.

"You've told me you thought my body was nice." Of course that wasn't one of the many adjectives he'd used, but I was embarrassed to repeat his actual words. "I just wanted you to know I think the same about you."

I could feel his chest move as he laughed, just a little. "What part do you like best?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"Oh, your butt," I said instantly.

"My ... bottom?"

"Yep."

"I would have thought of another part."

"Well, that's certainly... adequate," I told him, burying my face in his chest. He tensed, and I knew immediately I'd picked the wrong word.

"Adequate?" He took my hand, placed it on the part in question. It immediately began to stir. He moved my hand on it, and I hesitantly circled it with my fingers. "This is adequate?"

"Maybe I should have said it's a gracious plenty?"

"A gracious plenty. I like that," he murmured.

He was ready again (was that just him or his vampire-ness?), and honestly, I didn't know if I was. I was worn out to the point of wondering if I'd be walking funny the next day. My hands became a little frisky, traveling down the length of Eric's body, then down the length of something else. I stroked, and Eric moaned appreciatively. I stroked again, and, with some much-appreciated guidance, became more and more adventurous until I brought Eric to the same toe-curling end that he had previously given me. He cried out again in the same language as before.

Then he rolled onto his back and swung me over easily until I was straddling his waist. The moonlight shone across his profile, highlighting the golden streaks of his long hair splashed across the pillows. Though I was bearing all of me to him, I wasn't embarrassed; I wanted him to see all of me, in the same way I wanted to see all of him. The look in his eyes told me that he was memorizing this moment just like I was.

We spent the rest of the night memorizing each other's bodies. And we were studying so intently that neither of us paid attention to the phone ringing repeatedly downstairs.

**-_-_-_-_-_**

**Now, how d'you like dem lemons?**

**P.S. I also entered the Lurve contest over at the Alexander Skarsgard Library Forum. It's a _Generation Kill_ FF titled "**_**The Big Easy: How to Cockblock Sgt. Brad Colbert"**_** and you can read it (and find other contest entries) at: (www . alexanderskarsgardlibrary . com/forum). But before you do, you have to sign up as a member to read the stories or to post one, but it's really simple (and free) and only so mature people are reading mature stories. But I also posted the story on FF so it'll be on my author page. **

**Sample quotes: **

**1.**) _As soon as the song finishes, Brad remembers he's supposed to be all stoic and Iceman and whatever, so he looks out the window and exclaims, "Jesus, Ray, aim for the road, not the woman with the stroller. You're a terrible civilian driver."_

_"Your mom said I'm a great driver in bed. She's a civilian."_

_"Which mom, Ray? My biological mother, the one who deemed herself mature enough to open her legs and embark on one of the oldest and most sought-out rituals known to mankind yet did not want to deal with the responsibilities of her very adult actions? Or my foster mother, the one who felt it was beneath her highly desired upper-middle class status to sleep in the same bed as her husband and partake in the same activities that anyone with an open pair of shaved legs, much like your cream-of-the-trailer-park-crop momma, would enjoy?"_

_"Both of them. At the same time."_

**2.) **_"You know the world is fucked up when the jihadist-killing Marine wears Birkenstocks, the most successful rapper is a white guy, the best golfer is a black guy, the tallest player in the NBA is Chinese, France accuses the U.S. of being too arrogant, Germany doesn't want to go to war, and the two most powerful men in America, hell the whole world, are named 'Bush' and 'Dick.' Need I say more?"_


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hi gang! Glad you liked dem lemons. Kind of fast, but necessary for future chapters ... if you know what I mean.**

**Aaaaaand a GP thanks to chiisai-kitty for beta-ing this bad boy. While I'm at it, also for being my Twitter-Mr. Miyagi (*tweet on, tweet off*). **

**Characters: we're just friends, nothing serious. **

**-_-_-_-_-_**

I woke up grinning. It was two in the afternoon, so I wouldn't have to wait around twiddling my thumbs before Eric woke up. I had surrendered myself to sleep as late as Eric; yesterday was the first time I was awake to see him disappear into his hidey hole. He had winked, "Good day, lover," before closing the trap door. Sigh. Could he _be_ any more perfect?

I stretched; even with Eric's blood, I was still a little sore. It was worth it though, especially when I replayed how and why I was sore.

And as I moved to get out of bed, I detected someone, a Were from the red fuzzy brain signal, standing on my front porch. I threw the covers over my head like a child. Who could it be? Was it a Were-witch? Or was it the Were bodyguard? Whoever he was, and I could just tell it was a man, he'd been out there for over four hours and he was getting pretty anxious because I still hadn't woken up.

I hastily slipped on a pair of polka-dotted boxer shorts and an old tee and tiptoed down the stairs, grabbing a cutting knife from the silverware drawer and slowly inching towards the front door. Almost as if he or she could hear me, the Were knocked and rang the doorbell. Did Weres need to be invited in like vampires? I hope so.

"Who is it?" I called out from behind the still closed and locked door. _Hopefully not the big bad wolf who, with a huff and a puff, will blow my whole life down._

"Alcide Hevreux," a voice said gruffly, pronouncing it _Al-see_, with a silent 'd'. _Let me in, let me in, little pig!_

I realized I never asked Bobby Burnham for the Were bodyguard's name, just his phone number. Dang. Serves me right for being careless.

"Uh, Alcide, what're you doing here?" I asked hesitantly, like he'd answer, "To kidnap you."

"Pam and Colonel Flood sent me; Pam was supposed to call. I'm the Were in debt to Eric. I'm supposed to protect you during the day." _Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin._

Then I had an idea. I ran into the kitchen and traded the knife for the scrap piece of paper by the phone "Alcide, what's your cell phone number?" I asked, praying it would identical to the one in my hands.

It was.

I opened the door and looked up. And then looked up some more. Alcide had a familiar face; he had been at the meeting last night, which made sense. He was so handsome I wondered why I hadn't really noticed him last night, but I guess you wouldn't look at anyone else when Eric was talking to you. He wasn't as tall as Eric (was any non-NBA player?) but he definitely wasn't a pipsqueak either. He had eyes as green as Eric's were blue, a fact that was bolstered by his tan and crisp white polo. His tousled hair was curly and thick and black as tar. He was definitely a Were.

"Hey there. I'm Sookie. Come on in. Sorry about all the security precautions."

"That's alright. Better safe than sorry," he replied easily. He looked at me for a few long, _long,_ seconds before finally holding out his hand. Maybe he was just being careful? We shook.

"Something I've never really understood until now. Would you like some coffee? Is it too late to have coffee? You've been here for a while, though. Sorry again. I wasn't expecting company, as you can probably tell," I blabbered.

"Coffee would be great. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. You?" I answered automatically, before realizing he meant why I missed the phone call. Oh. He didn't answer and a big blanket of awkwardness covered the room.

I walked over to the answering machine. Four messages. Oy.

"Eric, pick up … Eric, pick up, it's urgent … Fine, don't. It's only one o'clock, so I don't know what you're doing that won't allow you access to the phone, but it better be good. Call me, I'm eagerly waiting to hear your excuse."

_One down, three to go._

"That was Pam earlier. And right now. Eric, Sookie, Hallow, whoever's there, answer the phone. And if you pick up after this message ends, you might as well call me back, since the phone's already in your hands."

_Okay, so that wasn't so bad. Two left._

In a clearer voice, Pam continued, like she'd never hung up, "It irks me that I repeatedly told you I'd call after the meeting and you aren't answering. Well, it's getting early, so here it goes. The meeting with the Weres went smoothly. The shifter has agreed to give you the day off from work, it's too dangerous otherwise." Shoot, I had forgotten all about work; I was supposed to work the dinner shift tonight.

She added, "Also, the packmaster sent his best trackers out to look for the witches. Sookie, a Were by the name of Alcide Hevereux should come by tomorrow; he is the one indebted to Eric. He'll stay with you until Eric wakes up, and then you are to drive yourself and Eric over to Fangtasia. If you feel squeamish about being with Alcide, you two can drive over to Fangtasia during the day; Eric left his clothes and other items here that you could bring home with you. I will call after I wake to inform you of what will happen tonight. Hopefully you will pick up then. If all goes well, then I can have my undead life back."

_Homestretch!!_

"Hi cher, it's Sam. It's about six. Hope everything's okay. Uh, you seemed pretty busy last night at Fangtasia, but you kinda missed a lot. Pam said she'd call you but I'm just checking in to make sure you don't go to work today. I know you're supposed to have the Were there, but I'd appreciate it if you called me back. Take care."

"What's supposed to happen tonight?" I asked, wondering what Pam meant.

"We're having another meeting. We_ think_ we found the witches, but we're not sure," Alcide answered calmly. My eyes bugged.

"WHAT?" I screeched. Alcide looked a little startled. I didn't blame him one bit. "Sorry. How do you like your eggs?"

Now Alcide looked at me like I just told him I was a mermaid (note to self: ask Pam if mermaids would exist, because that's probably the one fairytale character I'd actually like to meet).

He recovered by saying he'd eat whatever, so I got to work frying some sausage (before the eggs—for the grease) in Gran's old skillet, the one she'd received as a wedding present many, many years ago and had been using ever since. I wondered what Gran would do in this situation.

After the sausages cooked I threw them on a plate that I popped in the oven, along with some pieces of bread (to save time) and started scrambling some eggs. Alcide asked if he could help with anything, so I told him he could set the table; he obliged, opening the silverware drawer on the first try and taking out two cups and two mugs after I silently pointed to the cabinet that stored them. He poured us some orange juice as I started the coffee.

He ate neatly, but he ate everything. He complimented my cooking many times, but that only made me guilty for making him wait out there for so long.

After we cleaned up (I washed and wondered while he dried) Alcide excused himself to the bathroom and I tried to formulate a plan. I needed a shower, especially now that I was in company with someone who had sniffing capabilities. Shoot, could he smell Eric and sex on me? Oh my god, was that the reason why he looked at me strangely earlier?! Holy crap. Now I _really_ needed a shower, but I didn't want to bathe myself while there was a male stranger in the house. Oh well, it was that or smell of _fangtastic_ Eric sex.

Once Alcide entered the living room I told him I needed to take a shower and to feel free to look around. He smiled and picked up the remote and easily turned the television on, sitting down in what I'd come to think of as Pam's spot on the couch. My living room seemed to be the unofficial hangout of all supernatural strangers.

I quickly showered, noticing that I had a couple bruises and fang marks that only Eric would ever see, and slipped into a pretty blue Henley and cargo pants, feeling a secret thrill at standing naked on top of where Eric was now resting. Would he be able to smell me when he woke up? We could have fun with that later.

Geeze, one night of mind-blowing sex and I think I'm a dominatrix. Being with an absolute sex god vampire would do that, I guess. I felt skeezy thinking that if sex with Eric was that good, than I now understood why he had his own fan club, or why there were fangbangers in general. I shook my head and walked downstairs.

Alcide looked up from some golf tournament that was showing, and I could tell he thought I looked nice because he both told me that and thought that, except he used a different adjective in his mind.

I blushed and thanked him. He asked if I had any plans, and I said it might be fun to check out Fangtasia during the day, which he agreed. He insisted on driving (not that I minded) and I could see why once I saw how his face lit up when we walked out to his big black pick-up truck that looked like a newer, nicer model of Jason's.

As we bumped down my eroded driveway, I asked, "So, can I ask why they're forcing you to babysit me?"

He laughed and answered, "They have a marker on my father. They own a casino in Shreveport, you know?"

I nodded even though, no, I didn't know. Eric (and Pam? Unless Alcide had his pronouns mixed up) owned a bar _and_ a casino? Gee, maybe he owned a vampire amusement park too.

Alcide continued, "My dad got in too deep. He owns a surveying company—I work for him—but he likes to gamble. A lot." Although he was concentrating on the road ahead of us, I could tell that his green eyes were raging and his hands were gripping the wheel. I quickly replied that Alcide didn't tell me if he didn't want to, but he shook me off.

"And your vampires own his marker, his debt. If they call it in, our company will go under," he explained. I nodded, but this time I understood. Apparently Weres respect vampires as much as vampires respect Weres. No wonder Pam was working her vampire butt off last night; I just thought she was being unusually cordial, but she was campaigning for the Were's votes. Thank goodness it didn't resort to Pam kissing babies.

"So, to get the marker back, I have to watch you. Not that I mind," he added quickly, glancing over at me, "I was expecting them to give me a lot worse than hang out with a pretty lady all day. Vamps must be getting soft."

I laughed without much gusto, but that seemed good enough for Alcide, who smiled and looked out the window. "So what's your vampire marker? How the hell does a nice, real human lady like you get tasked with guarding Eric? Is it your telepathy?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Luck too, I guess."

"Wait, are you a leprechaun as well?" Alcide asked eagerly, turning to face me. I laughed and shook my head no. "A ninja, then?"

"I wish. Nope, I'm just a telepath."

"I don't think you needed to put the 'just' in there. Being a telepath sounds extraordinary."

"Yeah, well. It has its ups and downs."

"I hear ya," Alcide said darkly.

I wanted to ask him what he meant, but instead I asked what his job was like, and he went off on a proud explanation. Feeling like I had to contribute somehow to this macho conversation, I told him that my brother was the road crew supervisor for Renard Parish.

Conversation kind of died after that, so Alcide turned the radio and started scanning through the stations. I remembered Eric doing that last night, his face glowing even more than usual when the sound first came out, and I looked out the window. I distantly heard a country song come on and Alcide asked what kind of music I liked. I welcomed the distraction.

Soon I recognized the road we were on, and Alcide pulled into the strip mall parking lot. There weren't any cars parked in Fangtasia's parking lot, but Alcide still insisted on parking around back in case someone wondered why a car was parked outside of "Shreveport's premier vampire bar" (according to the small script on the sign) during the middle of the afternoon.

There was a plain gray door, probably the employee entrance, on the regular gray building and the only abnormal feature was that it was wide open. Either Pam was extremely trusting, or something was bad, really bad. I'd bet on the latter.

Alcide did too, especially after sniffing. He tensed and grabbed my arm, pointing to his nose and whispering "Witches. Humans too." I cocked my head, but I could only sense two humans, unless witches didn't have their own signature brain waves like vampires or Weres. I listened in, pointing to my head; Alcide nodded. I raised two fingers, to signify that there were two people, and Alcide nodded again.

_'Our Father, who art in heaven ....'_

The other person's thoughts were quiet, flickering almost. _'I never should have gotten mixed in with these vampires, I knew they would be the death of me and now they are, just not the way I wanted!'_

I realized these people were dying, maybe even having their last thoughts, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up even though it was broad daylight. I pushed past Alcide and ran in the building with him nipping at my heels. I felt like I was in a giant vampire bar-themed maze; the only way I didn't get completely lost was that I followed the brain waves. I ran through the open doors showing the area I remembered as the bar and abruptly skidded to a stop, literally too shocked to function. Alcide banged into me and let out an "Oomf!" that trailed off once he saw what I was gaping at.

There were tables and chairs overturned, the cash register was open, and there seemed to be some apparel missing. But I only registered that after I saw a brunette, the one who had been thinking the louder and clearer thoughts, lying in the weirdest yoga position I had ever seen; her legs were bent double, her heels pressing into her hips. Her face was made up with pain, but there wasn't any blood or even any visible marks.

I rushed over to her side and bent down as Alcide remained standing, certifying himself as the lookout of some sort.

"Hey," I whispered, "I need you to look at me."

The woman's eyes were red and swollen and teary, but she managed to gaze up, though somewhat dazedly. She blinked a couple times and focused on my face.

"Who are you?" she asked after a long time. Her voice was hoarse and laced with suffering; I wondered how long she'd lain there waiting for help or death, whichever came first.

"My name is Sookie. I am here to help. I am … close to … your master. Eric."

She nodded with effort.

"Are they still here?" I asked, hoping she'd know I meant the people who did this to her. The witches.

She shook her head, this time a little more firmly. "Tell Master Eric we tried to hold them off." She sounded so loyal, so devoted. Eric must be a _really_ good "master" if his "subjects" were this devoted to him.

"We?" Alcide asked in a jittery voice, and I suddenly remembered the other brain wave.

"Where's the other person?" I asked, blinking back tears. I knew I could find him or her with my special built-in radar, but I didn't know if we had enough time.

"Bathroom," the woman whispered, and Alcide took off without another word. I trusted his navigational skills and stayed put.

"How long have you been here?" I questioned.

"Since early this morning. Pam called us in to clean up after a party and wait for a blonde woman. You?" Her face contorted in an invisible pain and she whimpered. I softly moved a piece of her hair out of her face, feeling completely useless. I couldn't even tell what was wrong with her, but something obviously was.

"Yes, that's me. I need you to tell me what the witches wanted," I said, noticing that she was wearing a flimsy black dress with a slit up the side. There were fang marks on her neck, but they didn't look anything like mine.

"They wanted to know where we'd put Master Eric. They'd seemed to think they'd done something to him, and that we'd hidden him." Her face became even more pained and her face widened. "Do you know where Master Eric is?"

I hesitated. This girl, this poor girl, hadn't betrayed Eric. She might even have to give her life for his. She deserved to know the truth at least. I nodded my head.

"You're next then. They're … you do not want to meet them," she whimpered. I got goosebumps, especially when her face contorted and she closed her eyes and groaned. "My legs … oh, my legs."

I sprinted into Eric's office and frantically called 911, saying there were two injured girls at Fangtasia (I didn't even know the address, but how many vampire bars with a stupid pun for their name could there be in Shreveport? Big city and all, but still. It wasn't until after I hung up that I noticed the big red pentagram spray-painted on one of the walls. The drawers of Eric's desk were open, some even on the floor, and there were shreds of paper everywhere. Good thing Eric had brought his iPod home, or else he wouldn't know what kind of music he liked.

I raced back to the girl's side and saw that her body started having spasms. Once they'd stopped I quickly told her the ambulance was on the way and asked what was wrong with her legs. I was scared of the answer, but I needed to know, especially since this could happen to me.

"They made the muscle in the back of my legs pull up, like it was half as long … like one of those giant cramps you get when you're pregnant."

She began moaning again as Alcide came back in the room.

"How's the other one?" I asked. Alcide's face darkened, but he didn't say anything. He looked queasy. "What? What?" He just shook his head.

I brushed past him, barreling through the rock-solid arm he had thrown out to try and stop me, and followed the brain waves that were slowly becoming weaker and weaker.

Alcide roared, "Sookie, NO!" but it was too late; I had already pushed open the bathroom door. I almost threw up, even bending over in preparation, but I managed to swallow it down. Not that it'd make a difference; the room was covered in blood. Lots of blood. Too much blood. Way too much blood.

The body of a strawberry blonde was folded up in the same position as the other woman, but this one wasn't moving as much.

This woman had been standing in front of the sink when she'd crumpled, and her head must have hit the lip of the sink on her way down. Her eyes were closed and her hair was even more red because of all of the blood that had gushed out of her head. She was alive, but barely. Just barely. If I hadn't been able to read her I would have thought she was dead. There was nothing I could do to help her. Alcide pulled me back, and I followed dumbly. He dragged me back to the club, back to where the first woman was lying with an even more agonized look on her face.

I tried to assure her the ambulance should be here any moment, but I don't know if she understood through all of my sobs. I felt so inadequate; she was the one with the painful curse but I was crying. I couldn't stop.

Alcide drew me to his chest as he asked her where we could find Pam and Chow to warn them, but she moaned and said they just showed up at the bar after dark. She also said the woman who'd worked the spell was a witch named Hallow; she had short brown hair and was over six feet tall. I peeked in the girl's head, and she was the same woman who'd stopped by Merlotte's.

"She'd told me she was stronger than a vampire," the woman added, taking her time and breathing in deep breaths. I cried even harder. She was in so much pain, so much unnecessary pain, but she was doing her best to help her master's ally.

She pointed behind me and whispered, "You see .... " Alcide let go of me and whirled around, preparing for an attack. But there was nothing there. Nothing that could hurt him, that is. But what I saw was almost as terrifying as what I'd imagined: the long metal handle of a dolly, one that looked like the ones we used at Merlotte's to wheel cases of drinks around, was twisted into a U. Holy shit.

"I know Master Eric will kill her when he returns," the woman said falteringly but surely, the words coming out in jagged bursts because of the pain.

"Sookie, we need to leave here or else we'll have to deal with the police and we can't exactly tell them the truth," Alcide whispered. I nodded. He walked past me and bent down to the woman. "Though this isn't much help, I am so sorry. But we need to leave. The ambulance is coming soon. Just say a passerby heard you, okay? That's what happened."

She nodded with effort. "Go," she said, her voice ragged, "go and save yourselves. We are lucky you stopped by."

I distantly remembered that we had come here for a purpose, but none of that mattered. I needed to get out of here. Alcide walked briskly in front of me, his hands clenched into fists.

He drove off quickly, just pulling out onto the road as ambulances and police cars came past us. I breathed a sigh of relief, still not trusting myself to speak.

We drove in silence until I remembered something I should have mentioned earlier. "I have Pam's cell phone number. I don't have her address though. Her business card's at home."

Alcide nodded tensely. "Colonel Flood might." He pulled into a gas station parking lot and pushed his seat forward to get in the backseat of the truck. He pulled a small silver cell phone out of a backpack and quickly dialed some numbers.

"Hello, this is Alcide."

A silence.

"No, she's fine. We just came back from Fangtasia. Two waitresses were cursed by the witches."

A shorter silence.

"No, a different curse. Their legs were twisted out of place. They're still alive, barely. Hallow and some other witches did it."

Another silence.

"Sookie called 911. The cops are there now, but I could distinctly smell the witches. You might want to send out the trackers again, just to confirm the whereabouts, if they can follow the scent after this."

A longer silence. Much longer. I began to worry.

"Yes, sir. I will. See you then."

Alcide hung up and started the truck. As he was looking to turn he saw my nervous expression and said, "Everything's going to be okay."

I nodded meekly. "What did he say?"

"He's sending trackers over. I'm to stay with you until Eric wakes up. There was supposed to be another meeting tonight at Fangtasia so I don't know how that's going to work. We have to wait until Pam wakes; the witches might have taken important information or intelligence."

Alcide sounded and seemed so calm and composed. I envied him. I felt on the edge of a nervous breakdown and I must have looked it, because Alcide quickly began asking me simple questions about my job and my family and my likes and dislikes. I obliged, going into much more detail on most answers than I needed to just so I didn't have to think about legs and blood and curses.

Soon we were back at my house, and we shuffled into the living room like zombies (add to the ask-Pam list). Neither of us felt up to a lot of conversation. So of course I had two new messages on my answering machine.

"Hi cher, Sam again." I cursed; I had forgotten to call him. Shoot! "It's about three now, just wanted to see if there's anything I can do for you. Maybe you just had a rough night and are sleeping in. I sure hope so. I'll call again in a half hour, but if you get up before then just give me a call. I'm at the house. Bye." _Click_.

"Sookie, where are you? It's three-thirty now. I just saw on the news that the police were called to Fangtasia and two women were escorted to the hospital for undisclosed causes. I really hope you're not one of them … I'm going to call every fifteen minutes now. Cher, I'm worried about you. Just call and put me out of my misery." He paused, then growled, "Sookie, I swear ... I'm going to give you a cell phone as a bonus." _Click._

I looked at the microwave; it was 3:44 now, and the phone began ringing when it became 3:45. I picked up hurriedly.

"Sam?"

"Oh thank God you're okay!"

"I'm so sorry Sam. I got your message before but I forgot to call and then we did go to Fangtasia and saw those women and .... " I trailed off. I had just managed to stop thinking about that.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Just a little shook up." Alcide turned to look out the window.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No, I'll be fine. Eric should be up soon anyway." Alcide glanced back at me and then out the window again.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Listen, I'm really tired. Thanks for checking in. Sorry again about the confusion."

"No problem. Are you sure you're okay?

"Yep."

"Well, call if you need anything. Anytime. Okay?"

"Buh-bye Sam."

"Bye." _Click_.

"Everything okay?" Alcide asked. Ugh, right now, "okay" was shaping up to be my least-favorite word.

I feebly shrugged my shoulders. Could anyone be "okay" after seeing what I just saw?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

_No, I want to forget about it_. "Not really, no."

Alcide cracked his knuckles. "Okay." _Grr …_ "But I just have to say, I think you're handling this really well."

I stared. Was he nuts? I was two sentences away from bursting out into tears.

He saw my look and rushed to explain, "I mean, for someone who isn't a Were and just became involved in the supernatural community. That was the first time you saw something like that, am I right?"

I nodded feebly. "Listen, Alcide, I appreciate what you're doing here, but can we just not talk about it? Can we just play a board game or watch a movie or something until Eric wakes up?"

Alcide smiled. "Board games, huh? I can't remember the last time I sat down and played. What did you have in mind?"

I walked over to the living room and opened up the trunk by the book shelves. "Everything. Clue, Scrabble, Monopoly, Candy Land, Life. Take your pick."

Alcide followed close behind, peering in at what could serve as a paranoid babysitter's tool kit. "I always liked Scrabble, but whatever's fine with me."

I grinned. Scrabble was my favorite game too; I loved trying to spell out my calendar word-of-the-day choices (although I haven't had the time to pick one up for the New Year, what with my new house guest and his pesky friends and enemies). "Scrabble it is. We can play on the kitchen table."

And we did, miraculously being able to joke and tease. Alcide had laughed when I placed "were" and "fur" down, but he wasn't so cheerful when I successfully argued that the "jack" I had put down on the Double Word Score should count because it wasn't just a name.

We played so hard for so long that neither of us noticed Eric in the room until he quietly asked, "Lover, who is this Were and why do you smell like blood?"

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

** I always wondered why Sookie never used her telepathic skills in _Dead To The Worl__d_ when she went to Fangtasia's during that day, so there ya go. *shrugs***

**And some of my SVM sisters-from-other-misters have persuaded me to bite the Twitter apple. Boy, does it taste good! Watch me procrastinate at **http:// twitter. com/afalcone10**. Expect writing angst, sneak peeks, and what your fwiend afalcone10 will say when it's 2 am and she's too tired to watch what she types. Good times, good times.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: As the great Michael Franti once said: Hello, hello! (Hello, hello) Bonjour, bonjour! (Bonjour, bonjour) Hola, hola! (Hola, hola) Konnichiwa, konnichiwa wa!**

**Thank you to my beta chiisai-kitty for betaing this and ****never**** being terribly boring! It's just not possible. I'm hyper excited for her newest story, **_Backbeat_**. For anyone with an iPod and a (maybe not-so) healthy interest in music, you should dance on over there and read it. Oh, and look up Michael Franti if you didn't get the reference. But only after you read and review this chapter!!! **

**Like always: these characters are not mine. And I added a couple things to this, so any leftover mistakes are mine as well. And just in case you're wondering what else is mine, I have 6,000 songs in my iTunes so there you go. And I have a serious case of obsessed-with-music-itis, if you didn't already get that. **

_  
_**Recap:**_We played so hard for so long that neither of us noticed Eric in the room until he quietly asked, "Lover, who is this Were and why do you smell like blood?"_

-_-_-_-_-_

As soon as Eric said that Alcide and I jumped out of our seats—me because I was startled and Alcide for a … well, for an entirely different reason. My hand fluttered to my heart; Alcide's hands were in a position ready for attack. Eric's arms had been crossed across his chest when he first spoke, but in reaction to Alcide he too extended his hands in a similar position. Both men looked ready to tackle the other if someone so much as sneezed and made a sudden movement.

Strangely enough, the first thing I thought of was that I was weirdly glad that Eric had clothes on—a thought that no one should ever have to have. He had been naked the last time I saw him, and if he hadn't thought to put jeans on it would have made this scene even tenser. Not like that was possible.

Eric had been looking at me before, but now I might as well be invisible because all of his attention was focused on Alcide. His eyes were glowing dangerously and his fangs had extended. Using my limited knowledge of vampires, I deduced that either Eric found Alcide as attractive as I did, or else he was very pissed off. I'd place money on the latter.

Alcide was just as bad, snarling—_snarling?!_—and looking at Eric with undisguised hate. Why did Alcide hate Eric so much—because of his debt? But that was cleared now. And I thought vampires were supposed to loathe the Weres. Maybe the feeling was mutual?

"Hi Eric," I said calmly, slowly stepping in between him and Alcide. Forget being between a rock and a hard place—the saying should be 'between a werewolf and a vampire!'

I was glad to see Eric's features soften as he looked at me, but he did not drop his offensive position. Alcide probably didn't either, but I didn't turn around.

I continued, "This is Alcide Hevereux. He's the Were bodyguard Pam sent over." I emphasized Pam's name, figuring that there'd be a better chance of Eric ditching this act and trusting Alcide if he knew Pam approved. "He's supposed to protect me during the day. He's a good guy. He helped you out today."

Just like I planned, Eric was so dumbfounded by that statement that he dropped his guard. I looked back and saw that Alcide had also lowered his hands. Good.

I shuffled over to the side, so that I served as the tip of the imaginary Bon Temps triangle connecting me to Eric and Alcide and clearly stated, "Fangtasia was attacked today."

"You can tell me about that later, lover, but first I want to know what happened to you. Were you injured? Is that why you smell like blood?" Eric replied after a few moments. Now his eyes were trained on me, scanning for any injuries.

I hastily informed Eric that he wasn't smelling my blood and he relaxed noticeably, taking the time to lean against the counter comfortably. I'm not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I ignored it and moved on to tell Eric that witches came to Fangtasia earlier this morning and hurt two of his employees, which was where the blood came from.

Unlike the other two people I had told, Eric did not treat me like a little child who needed to be asked if she was "okay" (even though I had felt like one a couple hours ago) and I liked him all the more for it, especially after I finished my story and he walked over and gathered me into a hug, slowly rubbing my arms up and down while murmuring that I was very brave. Alcide coughed politely and, remembering he was still in the room, I started to pull away from Eric. But Eric was having none of that. He just stepped closer and swiftly ducked down to give me a long, slow kiss that reminded me of the kind soldiers in movies would give to their sweethearts once they returned home from war.

I could hear Alcide fidgeting in the kitchen chair he had sat down in, and I forced myself to physically separate myself from Eric and walk over to the counter. "Well, Alcide, now that Eric's up I guess you're relieved of babysitting duty. I can't say this enough, but thank you so much for being with me today."

I wisely didn't remark on how Eric didn't hug and kiss Alcide and tell him he too was very brave. Somehow I didn't think Alcide would appreciate it as much as I did. And although Eric might not feel grateful for Alcide's involvement, I certainly did. I'm a pretty friendly person, but I never would have guessed that I'd end up feeling so close to a stranger within three hours of meeting him. I really liked Alcide. Maybe it was because he was a great guy or maybe it was because we had weathered a tragedy together. Maybe a combination of both.

"I'm glad I could be there for you when you needed someone, Sookie. And, um, I'm sorry to ask this, but could you help me find your front door again? I'm afraid I don't really remember where it is."

"Uh … sure," I replied. I'm pretty sure Alcide knew where my front door was, but I figured he wanted to talk privately with me. Although he'd have to know by now that vampires had very good hearing? Whatever, it was his choice. There was nothing I wouldn't say to him in front of Eric.

I made my way over to the front door with Alcide trailing behind me; I only looked back once and saw Eric staring at us from where he was still leaning against the countertop. He smiled softly when he saw me looking and I smiled back. Of course that caused Alcide to grin because he thought I was smiling at him. I decided it would be better if I just kept my eyes ahead of me.

"Okay … uh, here you go, Alcide," I announced unnecessarily as I opened the front door. Alcide didn't move and I didn't either, wondering what he wanted to say that was so secretive. I really hoped he wasn't going to try and hit on me. I fully acknowledge that sounds incredibly vain, but it's the only possible thing I could come up with. Why else would he ask me to walk him to the door away from Eric? But come on, that would be bad form even if there was a human guy in another room, much less a vampire guy.

"Thank you Sookie," Alcide replied but he still didn't move. I wanted to tell him to either start talking or start walking, but I didn't. Although … ask me again in five minutes. I wanted to go back to Eric. And his kisses.

I could hear shuffling in the kitchen, of cupboards and the fridge being open and closed. I knew all too well that Eric could be as quiet as a spider if he wanted to, so his loud movements were for show. He wanted me and Alcide to hurry up, and I didn't blame him

I coughed politely, hoping that would push Alcide into doing something other than gaze earnestly at me. He was starting to freak me out.

"You know you can call me if you need me, right? And not just for emergencies either. For any reason. If you need to talk, if you want to go out to eat … anytime. Day or night. Either works for me, you know. I'm always available," Alcide finally murmured, stepping closer to me.

Eric slammed the refrigerator door shut. I could hear pacing. Some banging too. I hoped my new mixer wouldn't fall victim to Eric's temper tantrum.

"Noted. See you later, Alcide. Hopefully next time there won't be any blood involved. Bye now!" I smiled politely and moved closer to the door, one hand resting on the door knob and the other on the door itself. Thankfully Alcide got the message and, after another goodbye, exited the house. I closed the door as fast as I could without slamming it shut.

"You know you can talk to me if you need to, right? And I would have you eat food somewhere. And you never answered me last night in the car, when I asked if you would go on a date with me," Eric said, suddenly directly across from me. I shrieked. I was getting surprised more than I liked today. Maybe it was "Scare Sookie" day and I just missed the memo?

"Sorry," Eric amended hastily, "but I don't like what he said to you. I don't like that he feels he can tell you to call him."

I giggled, and instantly regretted in when I saw the brief spasm of hurt cross Eric's face. I hugged him and he tucked his face in my hair. "Forget it, Eric. I already did."

He made a "hmmmph" but didn't elaborate.

I continued, "And of course I would love to go on a date with you, Eric! You should know that by now. But, um, because of the witches, we probably shouldn't go out and paint the town red ... figuratively speaking. But we can still have fun. We can just have a stay-in date. People do that sometime. We could eat our dinner and then watch a movie or something. I could order take-out food from a restaurant and ... I could put some blood in a fancy glass with a paper umbrella in it."

"If dates are staying in and eating and watching a movie like you say they are, then we have been on dates before, yes?" Eric asked earnestly, hopefully.

Remembering watching Twilight with Eric, I laughed. "Yeah. I guess we have been on dates then. I never thought of it that way before."

"So I already had a date with you before the Shifter and the Were took or tried to take you on a date?"

Ugh. Boys. Especially vampire boys. "Yes, Eric."

He smiled and kissed the base of my neck, lingering a little. "That makes me feel a little better. I still don't like that the Shifter was the one who got to comfort you after what happened today."

"Well … I could still be comforted, you know. In a way that Alcide will never comfort me," I said shyly.

Eric grinned at me with a very familiar spark in his eyes. I loved that spark. I readied my lips and inched closer to that spark like a lovesick moth.

Then the phone rang and we stilled. "It's probably Pam," I muttered.

Eric nodded resignedly. "You probably need to answer it."

"Yeah, I know." Damn Pam.

I walked back into the kitchen, this time with Eric on my heels, and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Good evening." I knew it was Pam even though she didn't say her name. I mean, come on! She was probably born before telephones were invented. It shouldn't be that hard to follow proper phone etiquette when you've been around phones much longer than the average human being has. But that's not that important right now.

"I assume you're calling about what happened today? At Fangtasia?" I said as I watched Eric sit down in the same chair I had been sitting in while playing Scrabble. He looked like there was road kill on my table; he probably smelled Alcide. Well, he'd just have to suck it up—I didn't know how to remove Were smell. Would Febreze be enough? Did they make a Supe Febreze that I had overlooked at Walmart?

"You would not be playing into the cliché lettering of the word," Pam replied. What? Was it now "Confuse the Heck out of Sookie" day?

"Excuse me?"

"The lettering. Assume. When you assume, you make an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me.' You know," Pam said lazily. Then her voice perked up. "You've never heard of that human saying?"

I had, actually; I just didn't understand what she meant at first. But she sounded so excited I decided to play dumb. "No, I haven't."

"Well," Pam smirked, "Then today was not a total loss."

"What do you mean? Did one of the employees die? Was it the one with the lighter hair who was found in the bathroom?"

"No, they're both alive and healing. They're in the hospital." She paused for a bit, like she was distracted by something. "Chow insists that I must tell you we sent them flowers and have a group insurance policy. He's oddly proud of that."

"Wait, the girls are in the hospital? But how were their injuries explained? I mean, their legs just didn't look natural. And how were doctors able to heal them? I thought they had a spell cast on them."

"Sookie, you'd be surprised at how many creepy-crawlies are regular members of society But the humans are fine. That's all you need to know."

" Oh, okay then. As long as they're okay," I breathed. Supernatural doctors? I don't even want to know. Was my dentist the tooth-fairy? I tried to imagine the large, balding, sour-smelling Dr. Michael Trotsky in a tutu and wings and a magic wand. Not pretty. And definitely not like the image of the tooth-fairy I had grown up with.

Pam continued, "Yes, the witches did a lot of damage today. I'm at Fangtasia now but I smelled your scent and thought it would be wise to call. However, I am not sure if the witches took anything of importance that would blow our cover off, as I believe the saying goes. We had planned on having another meeting tonight at Fangtasia, but I think now I will hold it at the nest instead. It would be wise of us to act defensively tonight anyways, rather than offensively."

"Great. Where do you live?"

"That is not important. Neither you nor Eric need to come to the meeting tonight, as we will be discussing possible methods of attack. And since you have no experience with that and Eric has no knowledge, you don't need to come," Pam said bluntly, but I didn't care. I would have Eric all to myself tonight. That's what's important.

"Fine by me. But Pam, would you mind calling after the meeting is over? I swear I'll pick up this time. It's just that I don't like being in the dark, figuratively speaking."

She sighed. "Yes, I shall call. I will not be happy if you don't answer."

"I promise I will. Anything else?"

"How was Eric with you and the Were when he woke up?" Pam asked curiously. Eric looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

"Um … fine, I guess. Why?" I replied confusedly. Considering everything that happened today, why did she need to ask that?

"Oh, nothing." Looooooong pause. Too long. "That is all. Enjoy your evening, Sookie Stackhouse."

"You too. Bye Pam." _Click_.

I took my time putting the phone away. Eric watched me but didn't say anything. After I walked back over to him I said, "Do you mind if we just sit outside for a while?"

Eric shook his head no and we ended up cuddling on the swing on the front porch. I was a little cold but didn't want to get up and leave and get a blanket. I tried to keep my shivering down to a minimum, but Eric still noticed and zipped in and out of the house so fast I barely noticed he was missing. He carefully spread the blanket over us and tucked me in, which I thought was kind of him; I would have felt singled out as the weak human if I was the only one with the blanket wrapped around me.

We just sat in silence for a while, watching the fireflies dance in the moonlight. I welcomed the quiet tranquility. Like most Southern nights, it was beautiful outside. Eric played with the ends of my hair and my fingers drew out the letters of ours names on his chest, but he didn't pick up on it. Every so often he would kiss the top of my head, usually after I shifted my position or sighed. Which was what I was doing whenever I somehow managed to forget about how nice it felt sit next to Eric, and ended up reliving what had happened in Fangtasia.

I snuggled closer to him and he wrapped an arm around me. I felt stronger in his arms, even though I also felt small and well-protected. But I needed to be held after what I had seen today, and I was glad Eric as the one doing it. Holding me, I mean. I forgot how nice it felt to be comforted. The last time someone held me just to hold me, without expecting anything in return, without asking if I needed it, without questioning anything, was … Gran. I shyly told Eric this and he kissed my forehead.

"How was your day before the Were came over to stink things up?" Eric asked softly once I straightened and turned to look at him.

I laughed. He was so serious it was funny. "I slept until two, actually. I had the biggest fangover from last night," I said without thinking. Then I cringed. I had told Eric I had a _fangover_ from last night. Oh man. I'm sure that was a fangbanger term or something, it was so corny. I wanted to go run upstairs and hide myself in Eric's hidey-hole.

"A fangover?" Eric asked, now sounding very amused. He looked over at me playfully. "Are you saying I gave you a fangover? That is a good thing, correct?"

Embarrassed but giggling, I leaned over to bury my face in his chest and mumble, "Mhmmmm." No way was I telling him fang you very much for last night.

"Why are you embarrassed, lover? I like that phrase," Eric said, kissing my forehead since my lips were concealed from him. Now that wouldn't do.

"Really? You don't think it's too stupid?" I whispered, looking up and smiling. Eric smiled a little and shook his head. I tilted my chin up and he kissed me lightly on the lips.

"I don't think anything you say is stupid," he replied, giving me another soft kiss."I don't think you can say anything stupid. You are intelligent."

I blushed. Most people don't think barmaids are very smart. I would know.

He kissed me again and continued, "You are gorgeous. Beautiful. Radiant."

No one had ever looked me in the eyes and said that. No one had ever even thought those things about me. I found I had to lower my head, but Eric caressingly tucked a finger under my chin so I was looking up at him when he murmured, "You are loyal and brave."

When I thought it'd become painful to blush even more, I murmured, "Cut it out."

"Make me," he replied cheekily. I waved my hand as a sign that he should stop. Either he didn't know what that meant or he purposefully ignored it, because he grinned playfully. "You're responsible and hardworking."

"You're too good to me, Eric," I whispered, placing both hands on the side of his head. I wanted him to understand this.

He mirrored my movement, and my words. "No I'm not. But thank you for saying that. Now I don't feel as guilty about how good you've always been to me."

"You shouldn't feel guilty, Eric."

"Then you shouldn't feel so doubtful, Sookie."

I gently placed my fingers across his lips, and his tongue darted out to give them a quick lick. Although this was something Jason always did when we were kids and I'd put a hand over his mouth to make him shut up, I liked it _a lot_ better when Eric did it. So much that I quickly forgot all about Jason once Eric said "You have the most luscious breasts. You have a beautiful body. I am honored and proud to be the only one who has seen all of it."

Before he could tell me I was good at replacing the garbage can liner when I took the garbage out, I replaced my fingers with my lips. Much better.

"There," he murmured after a long moment. "You're creative, too."

And then he proceeded to show me how creative he was. He leaned over to kiss me, slowly and softly at first. I matched him kiss for kiss, nibble for nibble, lick for lick. I could feel exactly how much he liked my creativeness. He picked me up and brought me upstairs; I was reminded of how we danced this same dance last night and kissed him even more passionately.

He showed me he was creative at taking our clothes off. He showed me just how creative he was without his clothes on. His tongue and his mouth and his fangs and his fingers were creative too, working hard for my praise. And he was so creative that it was the first time all day I didn't see the bodies of the women in Fangtasia. Instead, I saw stars and fireworks and flashing lights and how beautiful Eric looks when he's screaming my name.

As I lay wrapped up in Eric's arms, tracing the line of his shoulder with a lazy finger, I was bone-grateful for the pleasure he'd given me. For the compliments and the conversation and for doing with me what I had never, ever done with anyone. I'm not just talking about the sex.

"Thank you," I whispered, my face pressed into his silent chest and feeling like those two words couldn't possibly be enough to show how much I was thankful for Eric.

He put a finger under my chin so I could raise my eyes to his. "No," he said quietly. "You took me in off the road and kept me safe, even though you had never met me before. You're ready to fight for me within days of meeting me. You shared your virginity and gave it to me in the most beautiful way. You sacrifice so much for me and don't want anything in return. It's worth losing my memory so I could meet you. I can't believe my luck."

He bent down and kissed me. Now I was the lucky one.

"When this witch is defeated, I will bring you to my side. I will share everything I have with you. Every vampire who owes me fealty will honor you. Especially Chow."

I smiled and brought my lips to Eric's. He sounded kind of medieval right now, but that made me feel feminine and loved, two adjectives that hadn't been in my extensive vocabulary in a depressingly long time.

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't promise fealty and tourist bars and money, but I could promise my love. And even though it probably was too soon to start using the l-word, it wasn't too soon to start thinking it, especially with the emotions I was feeling.

-_-_-_-_-_

**A/N: So, um, I think you guys should start saving these moments in a jar … just sayin'. **

**More importantly: It might be a while before the next update comes up. I know, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! But I'm writing these scholarship essays that just suck the creative writing juice outta me. And as much as I love your reviews, those scholarship essays could hopefully help pay for college bills, so I gotta focus on that. But I'll be back! **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I'm baaaaaaaack! **

**As you can see, I actually was able to finish this chapter MUCH faster than I thought I would, and it's all because of your reviews! I'm not kidding … I just passed 500 reviews, yeeeah boiiii! Thank you guys so much, and please, keep it coming! This is proof of what your reviews do to me. *coughs* ;)**

**As always, a ginormous thank you to my beta chiisai-kitty. *hands cookie and juice AND a napkin* :P**

**These characters are not mine. Easy as that. Although I did borrow from a few scenes. I'm sure you'll be able to tell which ones. **

**-_-_-_-_-_-_-_**

I woke up and the first thing I saw was Eric's eyes, almost white in the darkness, about three inches from my face. He was kneeling down at the side of my bed, so that his face was on the same level as mine. I smiled lazily and whispered, "Hey."

Eric whispered back, "Sookie, it's Pam. The Supe meeting is over, and she called to inform you what's going to happen tonight."

"Oh, okay," I replied, stretching my arms over my head. Once I finished Eric handed me the phone and as soon as I said hello I realized that I was naked. Oh. My. God. _Please_ tell me vampires can't tell what someone is wearing while talking on the phone.

Pam was saying hello back when I jumped up. Eric had straightened and I could see that he was naked too. Evidently he didn't feel any qualms about talking to Pam on the phone sans clothes. He threw me a quizzical look that softened when he saw me quickly throw my old flannel bathrobe on. He shook his head and chuckled as he climbed back into bed. I shushed him and lay on my back next to him, looking up at the ceiling and wondering what Pam was going to say. Her phone calls were always … interesting. And scary.

"Are you listening, Sookie?" Pam squawked. I hadn't been. Whoops.

"Sorry. Still sleepy. What were you saying?" I mumbled apologetically.

"We attack the witches tonight." I sat up straight. Well, that's one way to wake me up.

"Tonight?" I squeaked. Did she mean before or after her daytime slumber? I glanced over at Eric. He was lying with his eyes closed, listening to his iPod with his hands behind his head on the pillow. I was so shocked I didn't even take advantage of having the chance to ogle Eric without him knowing. Just then he opened one eye, peeked at me, and sat up straight. He took the earphones out and raised an eyebrow.

I was momentarily distracted by the eyebrow porn until Pam sighed, loudly and unnecessarily. "Yes. Tonight. As soon as the sun sets."

"Wow. And you decided all this at the meeting?"

"Yes. It went much better than last time."

Eric stiffened. I looked over and rolled my eyes as I waved the phone in the air, trying to comfort him. He looked better, but not by much.

"What happened?"

"The Were trackers found the location of the building Hallow is using for the witches' headquarters. We will launch a surprise attack tonight and fight. I am confident that we will emerge victorious."

"Oh."

"What I need you to do is bring Eric to my house at eight o'clock sharp. Here's the address. Do you have a pen and paper ready?"

I didn't, but I did about three seconds later when Eric zoomed back into my bed with a notebook and a pen from down downstairs. I kissed him thank you and replied, "Uh huh. Shoot."

I copied down her address and Pam said, "I'm sure Eric's warrior tendencies haven't disappeared with his memories, so we will need to have him with us when we attack. You are welcome to stay at my house and wait for our return."

I didn't like that. Stackhouses aren't cowards, especially not this Stackhouse. And even though Eric was the vampire, I still felt a need to protect him or keep him out of harm's reach. I may not have fangs or a tail or a supernatural double-life, but I was a telepath and certainly that bumped me up from human to a useful human?

"No thank you. I want to help. I could read the minds of the witches, like I did back at Fangtasia," I said. Eric shook his head vehemently and mouthed the word, "No."

Luckily, Pam agreed with me. "That is a surprisingly good idea. Now that I think about it, the witches might have placed anti-Supe spells around the area, so only a human could go through. The Weres said they detected magic but didn't want to go close enough to investigate. Also, your telepathy would be valuable. Yes. Both you and Eric will come to the witch fight."

"Okay. And we will be at your house at 8."

"Or even earlier. The sooner we leave, the sooner we fight, the sooner we win."

"Right." I said hesitantly. Was that really as good as Pam made it seem? "Oh, I almost forgot, Alcide doesn't need to come over tomorrow. I can handle everything on my own. I have a lot of chores to do."

Eric didn't bother trying to hide his shit-eating grin. So I didn't bother trying to hide mine.

Pam replied, "Fine. I will tell Colonel Flood that when I call him after this. We have to organize transportation for tomorrow night."

I tried my best not to snort. Pam wants to carpool to the witch fight. She would. "Okay then. Is there anything else?"

"If you have to leave the house, call the shifter. Do not go out alone. He has agreed to give you the day off again. Other than that, I think we are finished. Good bye." _Click_.

Wow, this must be really serious if Pam didn't bring her usual sauciness to the table. That worried me. I flopped back down, my head hitting the pillow. I turned over to Eric's side of the bed, where he was gazing intently at me.

"Sookie, you know you do not need to go and fight," he said carefully.

"Yeah, I know. But I want to. I want to help. I have to help. And I will. It's as simple as that."

"But you are a human, fighting against Weres and witches. You could be hurt or killed."

"I also could have gotten hurt or killed when I picked up a strange vampire running on the side of the road, and look where that got me." I arched an eyebrow. There's no way Eric could argue that. And if he tried to, he'd be an even deader man.

He studied me before he sighed reluctantly. "That is true."

I added, "Plus, I don't think I'd be needed to fight. I'd probably just need to see how many witches there are, and like Pam said, go through the Supe detection." Saying the words out loud didn't make me feel any stronger. I was still nervous.

Eric cupped my cheek. "Don't worry, Sookie. I will protect you. I will look out for you. I will make sure you are safe, always," Eric said determinedly. He moved so he was lying down facing me. I placed my hand on top of his on the bed.

"I know you will, sweetie."

"Good." He lifted up my hand and kissed it, letting his lips linger.

"What time is it?" I asked. I would turn around to look at the clock, but I was too lazy. Plus, with his vampire vision he could probably see it. Living with a vampire certainly had its perks.

I was right. "A little after four. I'll have to retire soon. It's getting late for both of us." He sounded as sad as I felt about that.

"Will you lie with me until I fall asleep?" I asked shyly.

His white teeth glowed white as he grinned. "Of course. I would love to."

I kissed his cheek and rolled over so he could spoon me. "Good night, lover," he whispered in my ear.

"Night, Eric," I replied sleepily. I was out soon afterwards.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

I woke up and did all the chores I knew I had to do—laundry, dishes, vacuuming, cleaning. What I didn't know was that I would be the nervous wreck.

I jumped when I heard a particularly loud bird chirp outside the window I was cleaning. I caught myself spelling out Eric's name while vacuuming the carpet. I even started tearing up when I saw his clothes mixed in with mine when I was doing the laundry.

Was this the last time Eric would need his clothes washed? Was this the last time I would wash his clothes, or even my clothes? No. No no no no no. I'm not going down that road. I can't think like that. I won't. I refuse to.

Everything will work out fine. No one's going to die. Eric's lived for a thousand years—of course he'll live through one lousy night. God, he's probably fought like goblins and trolls and Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster and hey, maybe even the Abominable Snowman. Eric was a Swedish Viking, after all. You never know.

And with him by my side, I'll be fine. Totally fine. Like, construction-worker-whistle _hot damn _fine. I shouldn't even be worrying right now.

So cleaning wasn't enough to take my mind off of things. I decided to stop and take a bath and shave and use my favorite conditioner to try and relax. It didn't work. So then I decided to put some makeup on, hoping that the impeding threat of poking myself in the eye with my mascara wand would be enough to snap me out of this frightful reverie. Thankfully, it was. I mascara-ed and bronzer-ed and lip glossed my way through half an hour, and I was so relieved that my dawdling was making the time until Eric wakes up go by even faster that I decided to blow dry my usually curly hair straight.

Once I finished with that I looked at my watch. Four o'clock. Almost there. I sadly reflected that I was partaking in the activities that most women do to get ready for dates—except I was preparing for a witch war.

Wait a second. I _could_ be preparing for a date. That would be a great way to surprise Eric—much better than sneaking up on him (cough, cough). I smiled for the first time all day. I could arrange a date for Eric! I love my brain.

I quickly put together a list of date activities we could do. I could order a pizza and—would that be okay? Ordering a pizza and having someone come to the house? Oh, who am I kidding? I know everyone who works at the only pizza store in town, thanks to Jason and my job at the only restaurant in town. Then again, I have no idea what I know anymore. I decided I'd order the pizza when Eric was up. I'm sure that'd be fine.

Eric. What to do about Eric? I hunted around, but couldn't find any paper umbrellas like I jokingly suggested last night. That's okay though. Eric doesn't really seem like a paper umbrella kind of guy.

I did find Gran's best set of china, the one her mother gave her on her wedding day, and decided that would be nice. I found some candlesticks and a glass vase that I could put whatever remaining flowers I had outside in. After some cloth napkins and good silverware, I was in business.

Now that the dinner part was taken care of, what next? What did people do on dates anyways? It's not like I was an expert on that. We could watch a movie, but we already did that on what Eric considered our first date. Granted, it was only _Twilight_, but still. Maybe I could pick one of Jason's manly action movies he left lying around here?

Oh, or maybe Eric and I could watch some of my home movies? That'd tie into the whole 'introduce yourself and any cute family background or stories' thing that people did on first dates in the movies. That could be fun. Eric always listened when I talked about Gran or Jason or my parents; heck, he'd even commented on my family photos the first night we met. Although there's no way I'm showing Eric the one of my fifth grade ballet recital, where Jason zoomed in on me picking this humungous wedgie my hot pink leotard gave me. Seriously, I even stopped dancing in the middle of the routine to paw at my butt. Yeah, that tape should have been burned, but for now it can just hide under the sofa cushions.

Would we even have time for a movie? Eric wakes up at 5:30 and Pam wants us there at 8. And there were other … non-first date activities I wanted to do with Eric. Maybe we could just eat dinner, watch a few short home videos, and then ... enjoy ourselves.

Okay, now it was five o'clock. I went upstairs and, after much deliberation of what one would wear on date night, slipped into my darkest pair of jeans and a nice black button down shirt. I even decided to ignore one of my rules and wear my shoes in my house—my only pair of black heels. I wore Gran's pearl earrings. I dabbed some perfume on. I wanted this to feel like a real date.

While I was upstairs, I placed Eric's freshly laundered clothing on the bed, and placed a note on top of the pile:

_Eric,_

_I have a surprise for you. It should be ready once you shower and put some clothes on. But PLEASE don't come downstairs until then. It'd ruin the surprise._

I stopped. I didn't know how to sign it. _"Love, Sookie"_ sounded like how I'd sign my name if I was writing a letter to my brother. And _"From, Sookie"_ was way too impersonal for Eric. Finally, I decided to write _"Your Lover_" and went downstairs to order the pizza.

I was in the middle of lighting the candles when I heard the water of the shower turn on upstairs. I almost burned myself when I jumped up and down in response. If Eric zoomed outside and rang the doorbell, my complete transformation into a high school girl on her first date night would be complete.

I warmed up Eric's blood and poured it into a fancy glass. Everything looked perfect. I dimmed the lights so it looked like we would be eating in a romantic restaurant … Chez Sookie. And even though the table only had one set of silverware and one plate, it still looked amazing.

The water stopped. I scurried over and sat down in my chair, and not soon afterwards Eric walked down the stairs, human speed—he even walked down with his hand on the railing. I smiled. He smiled too, making him look even more gorgeous. He was wearing the pair of jeans he had worn that first night, coupled with Jason's sweatshirt ... the one that just barely made it to the top of his jeans and rode up whenever he moved around a lot.

He stopped once he got to the kitchen. "What's this, lover?" he asked playfully.

I rose from my seat and replied, "Hi, Eric. I'm glad you could make it." I walked over, and with each step I took his smirk got even bigger.

"Me too, whatever 'it' is," he grinned. "Sookie, you look beautiful."

"Thank you. We match," I giggled, going in for a hug.

He laughed. "Yes, we do." His arms circled around my waist, bringing me closer. "What's this surprise? I'm intrigued." He softly kissed me on the lips.

"We're on a date right now, silly," I replied. Eric stepped back and looked at the table, the flowers, and the candles. His eyes lit up.

"You did all this?" he asked, clearly surprised. "For me?"

"All for you, Eric," I said. The doorbell rang. Eric tensed, but I patted his arm affectionately. "Don't worry. It's probably just the pizza guy. I ordered in."

I walked over and grabbed some cash. It really was just the pizza guy.

"Okay, now that the food's here we can start this date," I called out over my shoulder, bringing the pizza in the dining room.

Eric followed behind me and sat down in his spot. I served myself a piece of pizza and poured myself a glass of wine. Hey, I'd probably need it for later. For the witch war-later.

"Cheers," I said giddily, holding up my glass. Eric looked confused until I explained, "It's something you do to celebrate something. You clink my glass and then take a sip."

"Oh. Okay. I can do that," Eric said. He looked puzzled, but he still clinked my glass and drank his blood.

An evil thought popped into my head, one that referenced the Last Supper, but I quickly pushed that aside once Eric asked how my day was, like he always did. This time I didn't really have anything exciting to report back. That was okay; we still found lots to talk about. Eric might not remember much, but he was a great listener and he always made me laugh.

Except he made me feel a little sad once I asked him how his daytime slumber was and whether or not he dreamed during the day; he replied that he didn't know how to dream, because everything was just black. Although I paused for a couple moments, I recovered by meekly saying that at least he couldn't have nightmares either, and he eagerly asked if a nightmare was what I was having when I woke up talking about evil grapes. We laughed after that, and I told him some of the craziest dreams I could remember. He especially liked the one I had where Jason and I were gingerbread cookies who were shipwrecked on an island full of other cannibalistic gingerbread cookies.

"I like dates," Eric said as he was rinsing out his glass. I was wrapping up the leftover pizza.

"Me too. I think this was our best one yet."

"It's over already? We didn't even watch a movie though," Eric said, turning off the water and walking over to me.

"Yeah, I know. I picked out a couple home videos to watch; our itinerary doesn't have enough time for a whole movie. And there are a couple extra things I want to do too."

"Home videos? You are an actress also?" Eric asked. I stifled a laugh. He was too cute. Although

"No, not really. Home videos are what families make if they have a video camera. They take videos of anything they want. Usually they're of little things, like playing catch with my brother or getting ready for a high school dance, or big things, like my graduation from high school. On first dates people usually talk about themselves, but I figured since we already kind of did that and you don't know that much about yourself, we could just watch some of these for a little while."

"I'd like that," Eric said. He strolled into the living room and I grabbed the tapes from the coffee table. I popped one in and sat down on the couch next to Eric, who already had our blanket ready. I snuggled into my usual position and waited for the video to start.

It was the one of Christmas when I was seven years old. I had received a Barbie doll and was interviewing her for the camera; I even called her Miss Barbie Doll and everything. I complimented her on her hair-do and her hot pink mini dress before asking about her relationship with Ken. Eric asked where this was from so I explained everything that was happening, like where and why that scene was taking place, and who the actors were: Jason was in the background, playing with his toy fire truck and even making "vroom vroom" noises; my mom and dad were cleaning up the wrapping paper, and Gran was the one videotaping me. At one point I even asked Gran to dance with me and Miss Barbie Doll, and she obliged; she placed the camera on the table and shuffled around in her bathrobe and slippers, holding my hand and Miss Barbie Doll's hand so it looked like we were playing Ring around the Rosy. I was smiling so much there, something that was made even clearer when I walked over to the camera and smushed my face against the lens before everything cut to black.

Eric laughed softly. I looked up at him and he said, "Thank you for showing me that. Miniature Sookie is silly."

"What, and grown up Sookie isn't?" I exclaimed in mock-anger, punching him in the arm.

"I feel like Pam would enjoy having a Miss Barbie Doll to dress up," he said after we stopped laughing.

I snorted. "Yeah, we could even buy her Vampire Barbie. That doll even comes with its own fangs and bottle of TrueBlood. Pam wouldn't like the clothes though, I think: they're all either black or red."

"Pam would like the pink dress your doll wore though. She seems to like pink."

"That she does."

I looked at the clock. Six thirty on the dot. Call me selfish, but I wanted to do some more-than-PG things with Eric. I wanted all the alone time with him that I had before this stupid witch war.

I stood up and held a hand out to Eric. He instantly took it and stood up as well. "I have one last thing planned for this date," I said.

He nodded. I led him upstairs. Once we were both inside, I closed the door and turned around. Eric was standing in front of me, waiting. He was in for a show.

I started undoing the buttons on my shirt. Eric's eyes shone but he didn't do anything. He also didn't look anywhere else but me, especially when I took off my shirt and revealed the one sexy bra I owned, a nude one with black lace. I had never worn it with a purpose before tonight.

Eric licked his lips and his fangs came down but still he didn't step forward. Instead, he stood up straight and slowly—too slowly—lifted up the bottom of his shirt up higher, revealing inch after inch of toned muscle and abs. Finally, the shirt came over his head and he carelessly crumpled it up and threw it on the floor. He looked at me.

My turn. I shook out my hair, making sure I arched my back and pushed my boobs out. Then I nonchalantly brought my hands down to my jeans. I fumbled a little, but was able to unbutton and unzip. I slowly stepped out of my jeans, trying to make it as slowly as Eric had taken off his shirt. The waiting had been very … thrilling, to say the least, for me when he was doing that; I wanted to make him to feel the same way.

I stepped out of my jeans, kicking them to the side. I now stood facing Eric in my bra and my matching bikini panties. Now I started to feel a little self-conscious, with my hopefully size-eight body fully bared for Eric to plainly see. This was new for us. This was the first time we were doing this kind of thing. I couldn't wait to see how it ended up.

Any doubt I had disappeared once Eric unbuttoned his jeans; he was going commando and he didn't waste any time letting me know that—or how much he liked the sight of my hopefully size-eight body.

I reached back to undo my bra, and that was when Eric broke and walked determinedly over to me. "No. I want to do that," he murmured, stopping my hands. That was okay with me. I threw my hands around his neck and started kissing him recklessly. He took my bra off forcefully and then his cool hands were everywhere. He seemed to have six hands and I didn't mind one bit.

Somehow we ended up on the bed and Eric was helping free me of my last article of clothing. He was working his way up the inside of my thigh and my hands were fisting the sheets. "Eric," I panted, amazed I was able to talk during a moment like this, "We don't have much time. Let's make this good."

He paused and looked up the length of my body at me. He smirked when he saw I was watching him. "Oh lover, we'll make this more than good."

And we did. And then he did. And then I did. And then we were holding each other, sated and happy. More than happy. Ecstatic, even.

Until I happened to look at the clock; I don't know why I would do such a thing when I had a naked Eric in my bed. Silly me.

"I hate to say this, but we should start getting ready to go to Pam's," I whispered. I looked at the clock again. "We really should start getting ready to go to Pam's."

"I know," Eric sighed.

Neither of us got up.

"Eric, I'm serious!"

"So am I!" he protested, raising an eyebrow.

I threw a pillow at him (of course it went nowhere near the target, but at least it got my message across) and got up out of bed, not even worried about my nakedness. If Eric wasn't in the room, I would have skipped over to my drawers giddy with good self-esteem. I didn't even worry about bending over to pick up my panties and slip them on.

Eric rolled out of bed to walk over to where the rest of his clean clothes were. I gaped. Even with the darkness of the light, I could see that he had the most fantastic butt ever—more fantastic than I had thought possible. If there were an international butt competition, Eric would win, hands down—or cheeks up. He would get a large, large trophy.

Of course, the only way his butt could look any less eatable was in boxers—and just barely. I sighed. Louder than I meant to.

Eric looked up. He hadn't taken any blood from me tonight, which is why he completely took me by surprise when he murmured, "Sookie, I want you to take blood from me."

"What now?" I dropped the shirt I had been in the middle of putting on and sat down on my bed, my head resting against the headboard. Eric came over so he was sitting next to me.

He explained, "For this witch fight. It could be very dangerous for you, since you are mortal. If you had my blood in you, you would be stronger, safer even. I would feel less worried, and I think you would too."

"I get what you're saying, but why? I won't even be fighting."

He opened his mouth to speak, but waited a little bit before he actually did. "Because … I don't want to risk having you get hurt. Because I don't want to lose you. Because I … because I find I care for you. I have feelings for you."

Something fluttered inside my chest. "What kind of feelings?" Could it be Eric felt the same way about me as I did about him?

"Good feelings. Very good feelings. Warm feelings." He looked over at me significantly. "I like having those feelings."

"I have those same feelings you do, Eric. I like them too." I said, nowhere near as eloquently as he did. He still smiled. I did too.

"So now that you know how I feel about you, and I know how you feel about me … will you take my blood so we can continue to have those feelings for each other?" Eric said before he began kissing his feelings onto my lips.

"I—well … okay," I agreed. He had a good point. As long as I didn't turn into a vampire, I was okay with it. Plus, I had really liked how Eric had given me blood last time. _Really liked_.

Eric smiled, relieved. "You would need more than the previous time, you know."

I nodded. He lifted up his wrist and bit down; I didn't try to stop him like last time, but I still hurriedly looked away. I didn't like the idea of Eric injuring himself for me, even if it would heal.

"Ready, lover?" Eric asked. I nodded again but didn't move, unsure of how to do this.

Eric knew what he was doing, though, as he slid his non-bleeding arm around me and carefully eased me up against him, my back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around me. It was like leaning against a firm, cool, pillow—one that had muscles and hair. Then his wrist appeared in front of my face, blood running from the two wounds in his skin. I didn't hesitate before taking his wrist in my hands and bringing it to my mouth, sucking eagerly.

Since this was the first time I was actually tasting Eric's blood, I was surprised at how it was sweeter and more satisfactory than one would think blood would taste like. It didn't smell or taste like the coppery way my blood always smelled when I scraped a knee or cut my finger while cooking, but it was better.

Eric moaned, and I could tell quickly that he was once again pleased to be in such close contact. He began to move a little, and I tried to move my hips in rhythm with his. He hissed when I did that, his mouth trailing down the side of my neck. He moaned louder when I snuck a hand back there.

He pressed against me even harder, and then suddenly he groaned, "Ohhhhh," and relaxed all over. I felt wetness against my back, and I took one deep, last draw. Eric groaned again, a deep and guttural sound, and his fangs scraped my neck. I took my now free hand and brought it to the back of his head, pushing him a little closer to me to show I wanted him to take blood from me.

I licked away the remnants of his blood and panted, "Do it. I want you to."

He didn't wait around for an engraved invitation. I cried out with the shock of it, but that cry quickly morphed into a loud moan. Many loud moans.

Eric didn't take as much blood as I did, and after he finished he licked the two fang marks and kissed them. His lips were a little bloody, as I'm sure mine were, but we still kissed and kissed and kissed some more.

We exchanged many compliments afterwards, but I couldn't shake the somber feeling that crept up on me once we both fully clothed in new outfits. I couldn't help thinking that was a pretty nice way to spend what might be our last night together. It was perhaps the last time Eric would wake up in my house or use our special blanket. One of us might not survive this night, and if we did, there was no way to know how we'd be changed. Eric must have been thinking the same thing as me, because he was pretty somber too.

We silently headed to the car. Eric didn't try playing with the radio this time; we were both too tense, especially after I hit a particularly deep ditch in my driveway that caused me to bang my head against the headrest and swear at the stupid driveway for injuring me and my trusty Datsun. I was taking my nervousness and tenseness out on the car and Eric definitely noticed.

"Isn't there a way you can get your driveway fixed? So this wouldn't happen again?" Eric asked slowly.

I sighed. "Yeah, there is. I can't do anything about it though. I just don't have the money for it."

"You might soon," he responded darkly, and I turned to gape at him.

"Don't say things like that! Especially not right now!" I sputtered.

He apologized, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. I didn't push it, though.

After that, the drive to Shreveport was silent. I was tempted many times to turn around, but I knew I couldn't do that. I sure wanted to though. If we went back, I would be alive and Eric would be as alive as he could be and we could do everything together. Everything but really live our lives though.

"Why are you so worried, Sookie?" Eric asked. He turned away from the window to look at me. "I will protect you. You will be okay with me."

I smiled weakly. "I trust you. I'm just worried for everyone else. I don't want even more people to die tonight. Too many people are dead as it is."

"But after we defeat the witches, there won't be any more killings." Eric sounded like he was practicing for a debate, not on his way to an epic supernatural showdown. I shot him a look. How could he sound so calm, so controlled? "Sookie, there's nothing like a good fight," he said defensively.

"That depends on who wins, I would think."

That kept him quiet for a few minutes, which was fine. I was having trouble negotiating the strange streets in the darkness, with so much on my mind. But we finally got to the right address, or at least what I hoped was the right address. I had always pictured Pam and Chow living in a mansion, but the vampires had a large ranch-style house in an upper-middle-class suburb. It was a trimmed-lawn, bike-riding, lawn-sprinkling street, from what I could tell. I wondered if the school children knew their neighbors were vampires. I wondered what happened on Halloween. I wondered about everything except what was waiting for me in that house.

I parked near where the other cars were parked; I could recognize Alcide's truck. I didn't see Pam's minivan, but I figured it was in the closed three-car garage.

Before we got out of my old car, Eric leaned over to kiss me. We looked at each other, his eyes wide and blue, the whites so white you could hardly look away, his golden hair neatly brushed and slightly damp from our shower. Our wonderful shower.

"We could go back," he whispered. In the dome light of the car, his face looked hard as stone and as beautiful as a statue's. "We could go back to the house. I can stay with you always. We can know each other's bodies in every way, night after night. We could have many dates. We could make our own home movies. I would love you." His nostrils flared, and he looked suddenly proud. "I would love you. I could work. You would not be poor. We would be happy."

"Sounds like a marriage," I said, my voice cracking. I tried to lighten the mood but I felt like I just made it worse. This was everything I wanted Eric to say to me, but he wasn't saying it for the right reasons.

"Yes," he replied simply, his eyes begging me to say the same.

"I want to. I really do," I said shakily. I looked away for a second, breaking eye contact.

"Then why won't you?" he asked quietly, staring a thousand-yard stare out the window.

I didn't know how to translate what I was feelings into words, but that didn't stop me from trying. "I—I mean, we're already here. These people are here to help us. They're risking their lives to be here tonight. It ... it wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be right for us."

He didn't say anything.

I continued, "We'll be okay. We'll be more than okay. Eric, look at me. After tonight, we'll go back to the house and then we can do all the things you mentioned. All of them. We just need to get through tonight. That's all. One itsy bitsy night."

"Yes," he murmured. "But until then …." He leaned over and laid the biggest, most passionate kiss on me. I had to unbuckle my seatbelt before I gave myself over to the kiss. It seemed to last forever, or until I accidentally hit the steering wheel with my elbow and beeped the horn.

I pulled back and giggled nervously. "Oops."

Eric shrugged and moved to kiss me again, but then Pam opened the front door and called out to us, waving a hand. I sighed and opened my door. He got out of the car too and zoomed over to hold my hand as we walked up the driveway.

Once we approached the house I could see that Pam looked more surprised than I thought a vampire could be. Her mouth was opened, her eyes were widened, and her eyebrows were raised. She had dropped and broken the phone she had been holding, and it looked like she didn't even notice because she was staring at us so intently.

Eric and I glanced at each other uneasily. So far, not good.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Big chapter down below, so I'll be brief. My beta Chiisai-kitty is boss, CH owns these characters, and to the wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter—I hope you enjoyed the sneak peek of this chapter. *cough cough***

**-_-_-_-_-_-_-_**

"Eric, you have given her your blood?" Pam gasped, zooming over so that she was right in front of us, right in our faces.

I shuffled awkwardly, looking between Eric's stony face and Pam's impassioned one. What's the big deal? Humans give vampires blood all the time. I gave Eric my blood. Why would it be so inconceivable that I would drink Eric's blood?

"Yes, I have," Eric said impatiently, staring directly into Pam's widened and unblinking eyes. I could hear the implied statement—_So what?_

"I cannot believe you gave her your blood. Why would you do that? Have you even realized what you have done—what the consequences of your actions are?" Pam cried, running her hands through her hair. She was being so overdramatic I half-expected her to start pulling out chunks of her shiny blond strands. Maybe she'd eat them, just for kicks. I don't know, I've never seen a vampire freak out before.

"Why did I do that, Pam? Because I want to keep her alive. Because I want to protect her. Because I have feelings for her," Eric replied defiantly, squeezing my hand but still looking forward unflinchingly. "I'm not sorry. I'm not worried. You shouldn't be either."

"Oh my god. You have no idea what you just did. Oh my god," Pam said, stepping back. She muttered, "Now you've really lost your mind. You are so going to kill me again when you get back to normal."

"Why are you freaking out so much, Pam? What's wrong?" I piped up for the first time. I wished I didn't once she stared at me.

"Eric has never exchanged blood with anyone. Never. Not in a thousand years. And I let him out of my sight for a couple days and he's gone and practically bonded himself to a human." She sighed dramatically, as if we weren't in front of her. I couldn't tell if she was addressing me or Eric, or if she was just thinking out loud.

I sniffed, trying my darndest not to cry, and both Eric and Pam turned to look at me. Eric let go of my hand and wrapped an arm around my shoulder to comfort me. He glared at Pam, his fangs dropping down. Hers did too.

"This is my lover you are speaking about. I forbid you from talking about her like that ever again, or I will, as you said, kill you again. In fact, I forbid you from ever talking about her blood or my blood. Instead of lecturing you need to focus on this witch hunt you've put together that interrupted a fantastic lovemaking session between me and my lover. I did not stop pleasuring her just so I could come over here and be yelled at. Is that clear, Pam?"

"But—" she tried, taking a step closer with her hands out.

Eric roared, "I said, is that clear Pam?"

She bit her lip and hung her head. "Yes, Master."

"You are lucky you have shown your worthiness to me, otherwise I would not have tolerated your behavior for as long as I did tonight. I may not have my memory, but I have my fangs and my fists and my strength and my size. Now you will show us in and explain to us what will happen later tonight in the witch fight. And if you ever so much utter one word or make one face about this, I will rip out your fangs and give them to Sookie to wear as earrings, even if she doesn't want them."

After a long moment, Pam nodded crisply and spun around inside, extending a black ballet flat to kick aside the millions of itsy bitsy pieces that used to make up her phone. Eric started to follow her but I hung back. He turned around.

"Eric … what just happened?" I warbled, the tears I had worked so hard on containing streaming down my face. Why was Pam so upset? What did I do? Did I screw up? Was I not supposed to take his blood? What's going to happen now?

Eric hesitantly swept me into a hug. He murmured, "Please, Sookie, don't cry. Just please don't cry." A hand made it to the back of my head and he softly brushed my hair with his fingers. "Pam is going to pay for this," he muttered darkly. I was temporarily glad I couldn't see his face because it probably looked scary mad.

"But … but I don't understand. Why is Pam so upset?" I sniffed.

"Vampires don't usually give blood to humans. It's the other way around. I will be able to feel your emotions, know things about you now that we've exchanged blood, I gather. It's not unheard of, but most vampires don't do it. I guess I usually don't, and Pam usually doesn't either." He stopped for a moment, and then defiantly proclaimed, "I don't care about what anyone else thinks."

"You know what? That's one of my favorite things about you," I mumbled into his shirt.

"Oh yeah? What are some of your other favorite things?" he asked, his voice a little more normal.

"Well, you do know how I feel about your butt," I said while sniffing and hoping that some flirting with Eric would help distract me from losing my mind.

"Remind me again?"

I reached around and squeezed playfully.

"Mmmm ... I like that. But isn't there something else you like too?" Eric murmured.

I pulled back to see him waggle his eyebrows at me. I laughed, already feeling much better. "Yes, Eric, the Gracious Plenty's up there too, don't worry."

"The Gracious Plenty?"

"Yeah … you know."

"Remind me again?"

I backed up so fast I bumped into the bushes, and he started roaring with laugher. "Awh, hell no! Not right here! We shouldn't even be outside doing this, we need to go inside. People are probably waiting for us. Heck, Pam's probably peeking through the windows."

"She isn't. She's heating up TrueBloods for the other vampires. But I agree, we should probably go inside." he replied once he was able to compose himself. "By the way, you have amazing breasts."

I ducked my head. Hopefully Pam was paying too much attention heating up the TrueBloods to notice our conversation.

"Do you want me to remind you?" Eric asked innocently, winking at me as I giggled.

"Later."

"I won't forget."

"I'm sure I won't either. Come on, let's get this over with."

He kissed me on the forehead and together we went inside, Eric strolling in and me cowering behind him. It wasn't until I had to turn around and close the door that I realized Pam never asked Eric to come in. Maybe you didn't need to be invited into another vampire's home? I'd ask Pam, but I didn't want her to yell at me even more.

Everything in the house was beautiful and cold and spotless, just like a vampire. The foyer had a shiny wooden floor that looked so polished I almost started to reach down to take my sneakers off, but then I realized there weren't any other shoes by the door or the two hall closets (how many coats did a vampire need? It's not like they got cold easily).

Pam stepped out from an open doorway on the right, carrying two bottles of TrueBlood. "There you are. The family room is this way. Follow me."

We did, passing by two more open doorways that led to the kitchen that Pam just came out of and the eating (drinking?) area, where there actually was a dining room table and chairs. I don't even know why a vampire crib would need a dining room and then actually furnish it, but there you go.

Finally we ended up in the family room; it'd be a stretch to call it a 'family room' in a vampire nest, and it definitely was a stretch to call it a 'family room' when various witches, Weres, and vampires were crammed in it like they were now. I got the impression, from the glimpses of feet and arms, that more people were standing in the open doorways into the other rooms.

It wasn't until I really stepped into the room that I realized why that was. There were even more people here than the last time at Fangtasia. I recognized Pam (duh), Long Shadow (he was creepy … it'd be hard not to), and of course Chow (we blinked at each other). Colonel Flood waved, Alcide beamed, Amanda looked at the fireplace (again, vampires can't get cold … why was there a fireplace in a vampire nest?), and a lot of other Weres and shifters just looked at me. I recognized the witches from Fangtasia as well, especially a very nervous looking Holly who refused to make eye contact with me.

There were only two remaining folded chairs, clearly left for me and Eric. Pam confirmed this by gesturing to them with a bottle and crisply saying, "We expected you earlier … and less tainted."

She exchanged telling glances with Chow and Longshadow, who stared very intently at us afterwards. Eric glared at her, but I grabbed his hand and walked him over to the chairs.

Everyone stared at me and Eric. I think it was because they were so used to seeing him in a position of power, and then he gets dragged by the human girl like she wanted him to look at a pretty dress in a store window. Once we sat down and Eric noticed, he just stared at everyone blankly before turning to look at me. Then of course everyone turned to look at me.

I would have done the awkward turtle, but I didn't know if there were any were-turtles out there. Probably not. A were-turtle wouldn't be very useful in battle.

Thankfully, Pam cleared her throat and everyone focused on her. "Well, now that everyone's here, let's put everything on the chair."

I snorted and everyone stared at me. I mumbled, "Sorry. It's just that the saying is 'let's put everything on the table.'"

Pam shrugged her shoulders. "Table … chair … human. It does not matter."

I nodded and she continued, "Thanks to the Were trackers, we now know where the witches are located. We will infiltrate the neighborhood slowly. The witches have already placed wards and spells around the building, so there won't be many people wandering in the streets. Also, we already have some Weres in place over there. Sookie will go in first, as the witches probably have not planned on us using a human."

Everyone turned to look at me. I fidgeted under their stares.

"Why?" Alcide asked from his position on the other side of the room, leaning against a flower wallpapered-wall. Eric reached for my hand.

"Sookie is more of a natural phenomenon than a true human. It is my belief that she will be able to pass through undetected," Pam answered confidently, crossing her arms.

Eric was now gripping my hand so tightly I wondered if the only reason why it wasn't breaking was because of the blood I had ingested earlier.

"What am I supposed to do when I get there? How do I unlock these wards?" I asked in a surprisingly clear voice. I felt proud of myself for being so practical and calm when discussing how I essentially was going to act as the worm bait for some psycho bitches. Sorry, I meant psycho witches. Same difference, if you ask me.

"First, we need you to read the minds of witches and see how many are in there. Do you think you can do that?" Pam replied, really getting to her whole commander role. I wondered why she didn't attire herself in a camo, or even pink camo, outfit. I could have totally seen her doing that, but apparently the appropriate uniform for a female vampire to wear into battle was a black terrycloth Juicy Couture sweat suit. All the better to attack witches in, I supposed. No restrictions.

She arched an eyebrow at me, so I thought about her question instead of her choice in fashion. I counted up the number of holes (vampires), fuzzies (Weres and shifters) and fully readable minds (witches) in the room. Twenty-seven. "Yeah, I think I can do that," I answered confidently.

"Good. Because if they detect us approaching, we lose our element of surprise, which we are heavily depending on at the moment." Pam sounded more excited than I had ever heard her, even when she laughed her vampire ass off about my naïve questioning if vampires needed to brush their fangs.

"What will we do once we get inside?" a young Were with spiky brown hair asked. He turned and grinned at me, his pointed teeth showing. I smiled meekly and leaned into Eric's shoulder.

Pam looked mildly astonished. "Why, we'd kill them all, of course."

I flinched. And I wasn't the only one.

Pam instantly realized she said something unpalatable. "What else would we do?" She sounded so genuinely amazed I shuddered.

Well, now that was a stumper.

"They would kill us if we don't kill them," Chow said clearly, stepping out from behind Pam and placing his TrueBlood on a table coaster on the coffee table. That was the only reason why I didn't lose my mind right then—Chow the vampire was worried about staining the table.

He continued, "They only made one attempt at negotiation, and it cost Eric his memory and Clancy his life, along with the life of the Were." He shrugged. "It's kill or be killed. Or be killed for the last time, for some of us."

God, these vampires absolutely delight in finding ways of telling us what we already know—that they're vampires, they're immortal, they have fangs, yadda yadda yadda. He forgot to mention that the witches put two Fangtasia employees in the hospital. I said this out loud, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Who is going with Sookie?" Eric asked, glowering at Pam. "She's not going close to that house by herself."

Pam smiled. "Bubba will go with her."

I looked at Eric. _Bubba_? What kind of a person is named _Bubba_?

The sea of Supes separated like Moses was coming and I gasped. Bubba wasn't Moses, but everyone would know him anyways. The kind of person named Bubba is the kind of person who looks exactly like a pale Elvis Presley. That's a hell of a weird coincidence.

I stared at the famous face, too dumbfounded to care if it was rude. But that shiny hair … that nose … those heavily lidded eyes … those pouty lips … nah, it couldn't be. But it couldn't be anyone else either. Oh my God, could this night get any crazier? … Wait, I don't want to know the answer.

Once I was able to form sentences that didn't make me sound like a little fan girl, I asked, "Bubba? Don't you mean El—"

"No, Sookie, this is _Bubba_," Pam quickly interrupted, cocking her head to the side. "_Bubba_, this is Sookie."

"Good evenin' Miss Sookie," Bubba said, nodding his head respectfully and smiling at me. Oh my word. "Bubba" had fangs. And "Bubba" knew my name.

I nodded, my mouth open but too astonished to do anything but gape.

"I see you're admiring my army duds," he said conversationally. I wasn't, but okay. I nodded again.

"They're real spiffy … Bubba. You look good. It's a pleasure to meet you, by the way. I'm a huge fan." Pam glared at me. Whoops. "Of your army duds. I'm a huge fan of your army duds. Yeah. The green does wonders to your white skin," I said, trying to cover my tracks.

Bubba looked down and smiled. "I'm glad I met such a kind lady such as yourself. Sometimes the white jumpsuit washes out my complexion."

"Oh, that would suck" I said. "Wait, sorry!" I turned back to Pam. "How is this going to work? He's just another vampire, and I thought you guys couldn't come close to the house without setting off witch alarms. Right?"

"Bubba's a special vampire … the good kind of special, Bubba," Pam said a little nervously. He nodded good-naturedly, and Pam smiled and continued, "His, ah—mental broadcast or signature, if you will, is different from other vampires. He might slip under the radar."

"Cool," I said, flashing Bubba a nervous smile. He gave me a thumbs up that I shakily returned.

"Looks like it's just you and me, darlin,'" he drawled in that famous drawl.

"Great. Just great," I replied. I was more than star struck—I was freakin' vampire star struck. Like I really needed another surprise tonight.

Pam cleared her throat again, and the focus slid back to her. "Okay, so Bubba will lead the way with Sookie. She'll do whatever she does and then she will give us a signal. So, just to recap Sookie, you'll need to find out how many people are in there, whether or not they're witches, and any other tidbit you can pick up on. After that, send Bubba back to us with the information and once we're in position, you can move back to the cars, out of harm's way. You'll be safer there."

I nodded. I had no problem with that whatsoever. I know I'm pretty low on the totem pole when it comes to supernatural fighting, and I am a-okay with that. I looked at Eric, who seemed pretty pleased. He even loosened his grip a little, and I smiled with relief. I wanted to wriggle my numbed fingers, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"What about Eric?" I asked, turning away from his baby blues (oldy blues, in his case? Whatever, they're a pretty blue, and that's all that matters) to look at Pam. "If you kill everyone in the coven, who will be left to undo the spell?"

Pam didn't say anything, so I turned to Holly and Lucinda and the rest of the witches. "Know what I mean? Like, if everyone in Hallow's coven dies, do their spells die with them?"

Lucinda cleared her throat and replied, "The spell must be removed, preferably by the person who cast it in the first place. It can be lifted by someone else, but that would take more time and effort, since we don't know what went into the making of the spell."

Pam looked a little disappointed as she asked, like a spoiled child used to getting her way, "So we need to spare Hallow? So she can take the spell off Eric?"

I swallowed. I didn't like all this talk about Eric gaining his memory back, even though I kinda was the one who brought it up. I had never really thought about what would happen once we actually met the witches and Eric's curse was undone. I'm not so sure I wanted to.

A loud "NO!" interrupted my dangerous thoughts. I turned to see that Lucinda had stood up from her position on the couch. "Hallow is too dangerous to be kept alive. Someone needs to kill her, and fast. Her brother, Mark, should be able to reverse the spell."

"Yes, we will need you for that. But what will you be doing during the attack?" Pam questioned, crossing her arms.

"We can wait with Sookie by the cars. We will be winding spells around the building to make the witches weak and indecisive, and also less able to cast spells. Also, we have a couple tricks up our sleeves," she responded, surprising everyone with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. She looked pretty excited about these tricks.

"Are there any witches that aren't supposed to be there? Witches that were blackmailed into going?" I piped up after a glance at Holly. She turned to Lucinda, who replied, "None from our group, I can assure you. If there are others, they did not say anything. Many witches are fearful of vampires; they're afraid they might out the witches like the vampires outed themselves."

Pam nodded thoughtfully and then began talking about transportation. I heard I was in charge of driving Eric over, so after that I kind of tuned out and rested my head on Eric's shoulder. After a while Pam stopped talking and people started to leave, but neither Eric nor I made any move to get up.

After checking her lipstick in the mirror, an oddly sweet human moment, Pam turned and walked over to us. We reluctantly stood up.

"Cheer up Sookie, my friend," she said while smiling warmly at me. "Tonight is a great night."

"It is?" I asked dumbly. That adjective wasn't even on the long list of adjectives I would have used. Well, maybe on opposite day.

"Yes." She put her arm around my shoulder and walked me out of the living room, out of the front door too, with Eric trailing behind. I turned my head around as best as I could, and he shrugged when he saw me peek back. Pam had never been this friendly to me, and I definitely wasn't expecting this, especially not after how she had greeted me tonight.

"So you like me now?" I asked boldly, watching Eric's grin widen as Pam immediately turned to look at me.

She thought about it for a while. "No use crying over spilled blood."

Well now, that shut me up.

"Plus, neither of you knew any better. I should have, though. We can deal with this later." She shook her head and went back to crazy-happy Pam. "Tonight, we defend what is ours! We fight for the restoration of our leader!" She turned around to grin at Eric. "Tomorrow, Sheriff, you will be back at your own desk at Fangtasia. You'll be able to go back to your own home, your own clothes, your own … bedroom. We've kept it clean for you."

I didn't even know where to start. Pam calling Eric 'Sheriff?' She had explained he was the sheriff of Area Something-or-other—Five? I think?—so I shouldn't have been surprised by it, but I still couldn't help conjuring up images of Eric in black tights as the villainous Sherriff of Nottingham or, my favorite, a cowboy hat and jeans. Not that I minded. Lordy, I totally shouldn't be thinking of that right now.

And of course my stomach flip-flopped when I thought about Eric going back to his own … bedroom. And not the good kind of flip-flop that I usually get whenever I kiss him.

I checked Eric's reaction. He gave Pam such a serious look the grin slid right off her face. "If I die tonight," he said solemnly, "pay Sookie the money that was promised to her. Swear it."

"I swear," Pam said, looking uneasy. "Chow will too."

"I'll see to it that he does," Eric replied in that same serious tone. I didn't doubt him. Pam nodded and excused herself to consult with Chow about driving arrangements. They looked over at us leaning against my car for a second or two and then resumed talking.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

He looked surprised that I'd need to ask. "I just want to make sure you're paid for all you've done."

"Don't you start thinking like that, Eric. Once you do, it's all downhill. So just stop right there, mister."

"Mister?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean. Anyways, you're enough of a payment," I replied, kissing him lightly on the cheek. We were in front of my car now.

"Hi Miss Sookie, Mr. Eric. Miss Pam says I'm s'posed to ride with you in Miss Sookie's car," Bubba announced, striding over to where Eric and I were standing and not looking the least bit sorry about interrupting us.

"Sure thing, Bubba. You ready to go?" I asked, slowly letting go of Eric, who did not look that happy to see Bubba. I didn't question how The King knew Mr. Eric's name already.

He nodded and plopped himself down in the backseat. Eric kissed me one more time and didn't even stop when Pam's minivan sped by, honking obnoxiously. Yeah, yeah, I know. Can't be late to the witch hunt.

After one last kiss we got in the car and I started driving. Bubba hummed quietly to himself. It sounded a lot like "Love Me Tender," I thought, which didn't surprise me. Eric didn't turn on the radio, something he always liked to do. I was beginning to realize that whenever he was in a sour mood the radio was off. Either that or he was a huge Elvis fan and didn't even know it.

"So … what's the first thing you want to do when we get back home?" I asked playfully, trying to lighten his spirits.

"Take all your clothes off and reacquaint myself with every inch of your body."

I gasped and smacked his arm before turning around. Luckily Bubba was gazing out the window, lost in his own little musical world.

After one last look, I whispered, "That's the first thing I'm going to do to you, too."

He smiled softly and reached over to hold my hand. He found other excuses to touch me during the mostly silent ride, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek or tuck a wanton curl behind my hair or pick some invisible lint off of my shirt. There wasn't a whole lot of talking, though.

Bubba handed me a map Miss Pam had given him; it seemed she had plotted out where everyone should park, so as to not alert Hallow's coven with a sudden appearance of cars. The map was even laminated, maybe so that blood or guts or whatever wouldn't stain it. My allotted spot was in a deserted parking lot of a nearly-empty E-Z Mart.

I parked in the most out-of-the-way spot there was, and we all exited the car, Eric falling into step with me and Bubba shuffling in front of us. About half the homes on this street we were on featured real-estate signs on the front lawn; I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that meant there weren't many people out to see a very scared woman, a very tall Viking vampire, and a very famous and very dead singing sensation take a late-night stroll. I wondered if Bubba's vampireness was the reason for all the sightings. How the heck did he become a vampire anyways? I wanted to ask him, but felt like maybe that was a no-no based on how Pam had acted earlier this evening. I guessed I could ask after this fight. If we both made it.

Soon we were at the corner where Eric was supposed to part from us so he could meet up with the other vampires. Bubba walked ahead of us to give us some space, still humming to himself and gazing up at the sky.

Eric and I turned to look at each other. He looked stoic, except for his eyes; they were blue and filled with emotion. I'm sure mine looked the same way, but not as vibrant. I gave him a watery smile, and he swooped down and kissed me for all he was worth, and believe me, that was plenty. Even if he didn't remember it, he'd certainly had 1,000 years to perfect his kissing techniques and he definitely knew how and when to use it. We were making love with our mouths. The only thing that marred this beautiful moment was that it might be our last.

When Bubba turned around, he became the second thing to ruin this otherwise perfect kiss. "Miss Sookie, I thinks we best be on our way now," he said quite innocently, maybe not even realizing what he was doing.

After one more second, Eric removed his lips from mine only briefly to coldly say, "They can wait." I'd upbraid him for his tone, but I was sure mine wouldn't be any nicer. As soon as he finished talking, he ducked his head and resumed kissing me, now even more passionately. My knees buckled, and I started tearing up even though I was kissing Eric, maybe even for the final time.

Feeling the tears, Eric pulled back and wiped them away. He smiled comfortingly. "We will be fine, lover. I'm not finished with you yet."

I tried to grin back, but couldn't match his. "I'm not done with you either, Eric." One long hug later, and Bubba and I began our march.

I turned around, and Eric was still there. He held a hand up for a few seconds, and then zoomed away. I sighed heavily.

"You ain't mad at me, are you, Miss Sookie?" Bubba asked anxiously.

"No," I said weakly. "No, I'm not."

The night seemed unnaturally silent. There weren't any crickets or owls or anything else besides the low footsteps of me and my famous walking buddy. Maybe two cars passed us as we weaved our way through the maze of suburban streets. There weren't any other pedestrians either, which only fueled the feeling of intense isolation. The darkness between the pools of light below the streetlamps seemed darker, and the harsh light didn't reach as far. I was glad that I was walking with a vampire bodyguard. This just felt plain old spooky.

We walked the rest of the way without talking, me with my hands buried deep in my coat. It didn't seem as warm as I remembered it being. My bare hands were quivering with cold, and my nose felt numb. Maybe that's why I smelled something funny. I almost asked Bubba if he could smell that, but then I realized that since he's a vampire, he could smell everything. And something told me he wouldn't really know what that scent was. Maybe that's why there were so many houses up for sale? I certainly wouldn't want to live here, especially not with my witchy neighbors.

Then I sniffed something, an odor I placed from the scene at Fangtasia. Maybe I was smelling magic—the wards of the witches? Maybe the Were trackers had an easier time with finding them than I thought.

"We're here, Miss Sookie," Bubba murmured in a low voice, but it was so tense and quiet it sounded like he was almost yelling. We came around a corner, and then there was a large, ominous building in front of us.

To me, it seemed like a haunted house, one where people would do more than just jump out in front of me to give me a scare. Hallow was good at picking out headquarters, I'd give her that. It was a business for lease, a factory for what used to be Minnie's Cakes. It looked like the building had been empty for years, which of course only added to its spookiness. The big plate-glass windows were plastered with posters for events long past and political candidates long since defeated. Plywood had been nailed over the broken windows, and there was graffiti everywhere. Remembering Eric's office at Fangtasia, I wondered if it was the doing of the frustrated witches or the bored local teenagers.

If I was a regular pedestrian going on a walk, I would have turned around by now, or found an alternate route. The impulse to avoid this spot was so strong I distantly wondered if that was why this neighborhood was so deserted. Or if I was just a big scaredy-cat.

Bubba and I came to a stop, and he looked expectantly at me. I nodded and closed my eyes, lowering my mental shields. I reached out with my mind to the not-quite-empty building across the street.

There were brains, and lots of them; busy, busy, busy brains. My head began to hurt a little because there were so many thoughts—and so many ugly ones; maybe it was because of the absence of other humans in the vicinity, or because I was reading magic brains. Almost stunned by the flow of information, I remembered I had to sift through it all, and start counting. Not literally, ("one brain, two brain, three brain, four … ") but as mind clusters, little circles of thoughts. I came up with twenty. Five were in the front room, one was in the smallest space (probably the bathroom), three were in some side room, and the rest were in the largest room (probably the workroom itself). Whoa boy.

To pick up as much information as possible, I knew I had to get closer. I told Bubba, and we creeped forward.

He led me very carefully across the street, behind a dumpster that was pretty close to the building. I was kinda glad it was cold, because that kept the garbage smell at an acceptable level. The ghosts of the scents of doughnuts and other baked goods clashed with the smell of magic and whatever other things random passerby had tossed in—rotting food or baby diapers, by the smell of that. But I had more important things to do than be grossed out by garbage, so I got to work.

I felt like I was trying to listen to twenty phone conversations at once. And I could sense that some of the witches inside the building were Weres too, which only complicated things. I picked up on random bits and pieces.

…_hope that's not a vaginal infection coming on…_

_I don't think he'd notice a love potion if I slipped it in his coffee; he's not that great of a witch…  
_

…_If I turned her into a toad no one could tell the difference…_

…_did I close the garage door?…_

…_If I ever find that damn vamp he's not even going to know what hit him…_

…_I'm hungry…_

Okay, so this wasn't totally useful. It's not like anyone was thinking, "I hear vampires coming!" or "This is how I'm going to fight!" Everyone seemed a little nervous, but not like they were expecting a fight—like they were waiting to take a test or something.

"Bubba," I said, just a little louder than a thought, "you can go tell Pam that there are twenty people in there."

"Yes'm."

"…You remember how to get to Pam, right?"

"Yes'm."

"Okay, you can go now. I appreciate your help."

"'s no problem, Miss Sookie. Buh-bye," Bubba said, and then he was gone. Oh. Now I was all alone.

As terrified as I was, something compelled me to stay behind and keep watch over the witches' brains. I could tell there were six males and the rest were female. Hallow was in there, because one of the women was looking at her and thinking worshipful thoughts. Ugh.

I looked around. Where did they park their cars, anyway? Or did they just arrive by broomsticks? Was there a broomstick rack, like a bike rack? Did they have to lock up their broomsticks? I chuckled softly to myself.

And then I was seized from behind.

"Who are you?" asked a thin voice.

Since she (at least, it sounded like a she) had one hand over my mouth and one hand holding a knife to my throat, I couldn't exactly answer her. She seemed to grasp that after a second, because then she pushed me in the direction of the building and said, "We're going in."

I couldn't have that. There was no way I could go in. What if those witches smelled me or Eric or Eric's blood like Pam had did earlier this evening?

I tried to drag my feet, which only earned me a kick from behind. I almost fell forward, but I caught myself at the last moment. Her grip on me loosened when she thought I was going to fall.

This was my only shot.

With both hands, I reached up and grabbed her knife wrist, and I twisted it as hard as I could while I hit her hard, backing up my foot and kicking her like I was a donkey. She must not have been a blood-drinking witch or a Were-witch, or maybe it's because she hadn't seen Sam break up as many bar brawls as I had, but she landed with a loud thud on the cold pavement.

I turned and jumped on her and straddled her without trying to be nice about it, not caring if I hurt her. That scared me, but I was more scared of what she'd do to me if I hadn't done that. I pounded her hand against the ground until she let go of the knife. She was about the same age as me, with dark brown hair and green eyes that were green with something that wasn't envy—more like hatred. She spat in my face and smirked once I gasped. How rude!

I released her wrist and leaned forward to grab the knife, and then she surprised me by punching me in the face with her other hand. Luckily my head had been turned in my haste to pick up the knife, so she ended up punching my ear, which still hurt real bad. I heard ringing and felt pain and saw her smile evilly before winding up to punch me again. This time she hit me right where she wanted to, and I knew there was a very good chance I'd have a black eye. Or a black cheek, if that was even possible.

I was knocked off of her, her punch was that strong, but I was able to grab the knife. I scuttled over on my knees and held the knife over her, its sharp tip pointing down and its wooden handle feeling heavy in my hands. I pulled my arm back so it looked like I would plunge that knife into her at any moment, and she instantly stilled.

With the back of my non-knife hand I wiped away her spit. "Are there any other lookouts I should know about?" I asked, not really expecting the truth. Plus, I could always use her as my hostage-thingy. Damn, I should have paid more attention to Jason's action movies.

"Maybe," she said, more loudly than I liked. Heck, I should just be glad she didn't yell. She was a pretty lousy lookout. I told her that. I don't know why, but I did.

"I volunteered to do this, and Hallow said I would be perfect for the job," she replied cattily, sounding like she was talking about God when she mentioned that she-devil.

"Obviously you weren't." I was feeling sassy. Hey, I just defeated her in my first ever fight!

She didn't say anything, just closed her eyes. Was she going to curse me? I clamped a hand down over her mouth and forced her to stand up. She was littler than me, skinnier and smaller. I mimicked her position from before, so that now I was the one holding the knife to her throat and the hand over her mouth.

Where was everyone else? Pam and Eric and Alcide should have been here by now, right? Unless there were even more lookouts, like the witch kind of said? Crap. I looked into her mind, but all I could get was the memory of Hallow telling her to go outside and keep an eye out—and no, Hallow didn't say she'd be perfect for the job. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to bring her back to the parking lot with me? Wait around until everyone else showed up? I wasn't letting her go, that's for sure.

Something large and warm nudged my leg, and I jumped about a mile. I was just glad I didn't scream. I looked down and saw eyes and teeth gleaming in the streetlight—a wolf. I prayed this was a good wolf, a Were from our side. Otherwise, I was done for.

The wolf didn't talk (could they even talk, like Disney animals, in their wolf form?) but just looked up at me before cocking his head down the road I was supposed to follow back to the parking lot. So this had to be a good wolf, right? I mean, it didn't try and eat me yet; that's always a good thing. Maybe it was Alcide? Whoever it was, he or she knew I wasn't supposed to be in the danger zone.

Then all of a sudden the wolf ran off into the woods and Eric was here, putting a large hand around the lookout's throat and pulling her away from me. "Lover, what is happening? Who is this? What are you doing here?" Eric whispered as furiously as possible. He was a good whisperer. "You are not supposed to be here right now. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"I know, Eric," I said more sharply than I wanted to. It's not like I wanted to be hanging out in front of the witches' lair with my very own hostage.

"Pam told you to leave once you counted everyone," he said.

"_I know._ What she didn't tell me as that there might be a lookout. Maybe lookouts."

He shook his head dismissively. "You are bleeding. You are injured too. What happened? Sookie, are you okay? What did this witch do to you?"

I was bleeding? I knew there probably were some marks on my cheek because it was still stinging, but could she have punched me so hard she'd draw blood? I gingerly patted my cheek with the hand that didn't have the knife and yep—there was blood there. She had been wearing a ring, now that I looked at her hands pawing at her neck. That's why that punch hurt so damn much. That's why I was bleeding. At least it wasn't her wedding ring; she had hit me with her right hand. I told Eric this.

He looked down at the witch and she gasped as his hold became a little stronger. He snarled, "This is what happens when you injure my lover."

I knew it was wrong, but I was glad she wasn't being treated like royalty. My face hurt and now I could feel a lot of blood running down my cheek. How the hell I could have missed it before? I fidgeted, wanting to run to Eric and feel safe in his arms. I hated that bitch-witch even more now since there was no chance of that happening, thanks to her.

All of a sudden Eric spun her around and calmly stated, "Look at me, witch." She did. Eric continued, "You did not see anyone here. Not me, not the wolf, not the woman. Who did you see?"

"No one," the woman murmured back in a low voice that sounded nothing like the snarl she had used with me. Did she find Eric as attractive as I did? That bitch-witch!! Or—wait a moment, was he _glamoring_ her? Eric knew how to glamour? Since when?

"You are going to go back into that building and say that there is no one outside, and there is no need for any more lookouts. Do you understand?" he murmured.

"Yes, sir." He motioned for her to go, and she did. Once she was out of sight, he walked over to me, cupping my one good cheek so he could turn my face and inspect the injury. He did not look pleased, even with all the blood.

"You're just gonna let her go? Just like that?" I replied, gesturing at where she had gone.

"Of course," Eric said matter-of-factly. "She has been glamoured. She will not remember this."

"Okay," I said. He's the vampire, after all.

"You are bleeding," he murmured.

"Do you want it? Might as well, it'd go to waste otherwise," I said. Like my blood was the same thing as melting ice cream.

Eric nodded and bent his head down. Cradling my face as gently as he could, he first kissed me on the lips before kissing my injury and licking the blood. His tongue was a little rough, but I didn't mind.

Once he lapped everything up he pulled back a little and asked if I wanted blood. I said no, mostly because I was scared of what it would do. Plus, my face didn't _hurt_ that much; it just felt sore and stinging. I could deal with that.

"Thank you for that; it was perfect, as always," Eric said. Again with the blood-ice cream feeling. "I'm not happy that your blood was spilled, however. But I am glad I was the one who licked it up."

I smiled. What else could I do?

Then I sensed a presence behind me and Pam was at my shoulder.

"Where's Bubba?" she asked impatiently, like I would know. I stared.

"I told him to go to you," I replied slowly. Uh oh.

"Yes, he did. I sent him back to you. He did not show?" I shook my head.

Pam swore under her breath, and I was faintly surprised she'd do something so un-ladylike. Turns out the preppy blonde who checked her lipstick in the mirror also had a mouth of a sailor.

"Colonel Flood said he recruited some shifters, and one was a were-cat. Bubba better not have found her," she muttered, not making any effort to clue me and Eric in.

"Speaking of shifters, where's Sam?" I asked. He had been at the other meetings, so where was he tonight?

"Not important. He couldn't find a replacement for the bar. We're losing time. Bubba was supposed to be here because he has to break down the door for me."

"But … he's a vampire. He can't go in without an invitation, like you. Right?" I asked feebly.

Pam shook her head, almost jumping up and down with impatience. She spoke quicker than normal. "I can't really explain this right now, but Bubba is kind of brain damaged. His turning didn't go so smoothly, and that's why he's a little out there. He's not altogether a true vampire. He can enter without an express invitation. That's why he was supposed to come back."

I put two and two together and wished there was a way for it to equal five. "So you need someone to kick down the door for you … someone who isn't a vampire."

Pam nodded her head. Eric looked aghast, but he knew there wasn't any time for other options. Heck, everyone here knew it.

"So I'll have to be the first one through the door," I said in a dead tone. "Then I just have to invite y'all in?"

"Yes. Your invitation will be enough. The building doesn't belong to them," Pam replied.

Eric crossed his arms.

"Should we do this now?" I asked hesitantly. '_Please say no_.'

Pam snorted, almost inaudibly but not quite. She grinned, a scary thing made even creepier with the street light seeming to illuminate her fangs. "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?"

Lordy, the last thing I needed right now was a sarcastic vampire. I nodded and, taking care not to stab him with the knife I was still holding, walked over to Eric and gave him the best kiss I could manage. My lips were shaking but they smoothed out once Eric's mouth met them. Our kiss was sloppy and desperate and all too quick, because Pam "hmmphed" and tapped her foot loudly on the pavement.

"We must be going. Now. Eric, you go around the back door. I will protect Sookie and all that," she said forcefully. Eric quickly kissed me one more time and cupped my cheek.

"NOW!" With one last pained look, he zoomed off into the darkness.

"Alright, now let's nail some witch butt!" Pam said happily, not caring that she just interrupted what might be my last moment with Eric. All of a sudden a whole hoard of wolves appeared from the woods, led by the one from before. Had they been there the whole time? I could have used a little help during my skirmish with that witch.

Pam grabbed my elbow and we made our way over to the front door of the building. The wolves scampered behind us. It seemed like everyone had fangs but me.

"I kick, you go in," Pam said almost giddily. She surprised me even more by enveloping me in a quick, tight hug. Once she released me, she crouched down in a ready position.

I stood behind her and watched in awe as she ninja-kicked the front door open, cracking through the wood. Uh, ow.

The lock shattered, the door sprang inward, and I leaped inside and screamed "COME IN!" while hoping that would be enough of an invitation.

For a horrifying moment I was the only one in the witches' lair, and they'd all stopped to turn and look at me with utter astonishment. A woman dropped the book she was holding, and the sound of it hitting the floor was the only sound in the room for one odd second. '_Fuck, did I do that right?'_ I managed to think before I was pushed me aside by the incoming wolves. I could hear a bang around back and hoped everything was okay with Eric.

I hit my head on the wall and felt a little woozy. Of course, that might have had something to do with what was happening right in front of my eyes. The room was full of flying bodies and spraying blood and screams, lots of screams.

There were witches and wolves and vampires, and they were fighting anyone who wasn't on their side. I craned my neck searching for a sight of Eric's tall frame or his blonde hair, but couldn't find him.

A heavy mist began to crawl through the room. The witches, who were fighting with knives or wolf teeth, got the idea, and those who could began chanting. The cloud of mist became even darker and thicker, and it was getting hard to tell friend from foe.

I realized that I had flattened myself against the wall while gaping wordlessly at the scene in front of me, and I should have gone outside like I was always _supposed_ to. I leaped for the door to escape, but saw that the mist was making it hard for me to see. Turns out I leaped for where I thought the door was.

I started panicking a little, feeling a wisp of fear grow in my stomach. Patting the wall frantically, I searched for the outline of the exit. All I could feel was wall, shuddering when I came across a wet patch of something that got all over my hand and that I refused to look at.

I stumbled and landed on the body of a snarling Were who hadn't shifted back into human form. I couldn't tell if it was a Colonel Flood-Were or a witch-Were, but whoever it was, he or she was growly. And scary. Then the Were started shifting underneath me and I backed up hurriedly, staring at how paws became hands and fur became skin.

I stepped backwards into a wall—a wall of a person. This nameless witch grabbed me from behind with superhuman strength. She tried to grip my neck with one hand while holding my arm with the other, but her grip kept slipping and I was able to take the knife that I was still holding in my hand and thrust it behind me. We both gasped as the knife plunged into soft flesh, as easily as I was cutting birthday cake. She let go of me and I yanked my knife out and ran forward, too scared to look back and see what I had done.

By now I was completely disoriented. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't see and although I could yell, no one would stop and listen to me. I had just maybe killed someone and everyone else was definitely killing someones and there was just too much killing going on.

I felt a spray of someone's blood douse my face and I gasped, which of course lead to me getting someone's blood in my mouth—and not Eric's blood. There was so much blood, and so many supernatural animals, that I felt like I was starring in my very own low-grade science fiction movie, the kind you'd be embarrassed to admit you saw. Except this wasn't ketchup and masks and colored contacts, this was my life. I tried to scream but I couldn't. I knew it wasn't my blood, and I knew I wasn't injured, but I also knew that I didn't know anything.

Gasping raggedly, I held my hands out in front of me and tried to find a door or a wall or even a closet. Instead, I found a body—a falling body that took me down with it and landed on top of me. It was a man, but I didn't recognize the face. I tried to push him off of me, but he was a big guy. Too big—I was having even more trouble breathing.

Then suddenly he was lifted off of me, and I inhaled deeply. It smelled like death and magic and wet dog (was that Were?) and blood, but I welcomed it. Someone picked me up and I braced myself up against the wall. Would I have to fight wolf or witch? Which was better?

Paralyzed with fear, I shielded my face and waited for the attack … but it never came. I peered out in front of me but couldn't see anything imminent. There were lots of blurred outlines of people, but none of them running straight for me.

It started raining, and I laughed a clipped, hollow laugh that didn't sound anything like my normal laugh. It's raining. Now. Here. Inside an abandoned bakery. Over witches and Weres and vampires. It's raining. Hey, why not? Of course it's raining inside, no big deal. Heck, maybe there'd be a rainbow and some leprechaun reinforcements can come help us fight!

The rain started dispersing the mist, and I could see clearly now ("… _the rain is gone … I can see all the obstacles in my way"_). There were still patches of opaque fog here and there, but I could see the broken door and ran towards it.

I was free. Good God, I was free. I doubled over, hands on my knees, gasping for breath that I had lost inside due to the fog and hysteria and laughing maniacally at the rain. I made to wipe the blood off of my face with my hands, but stopped once I saw my hands were bloody too. Then I turned to brush my face on the arm of my shirt but that had blood and dirt and other icky stuff on it. The bottom of my shirt was no good. My jeans were dirty, with blood on the cuffs. I was just a big bloody mess, and I wasn't even trying to be British and mean it as a curse word.

I managed to catch my breath, and once I did I stood up and thought, _'Okay, now what?_'

I wasn't dead, but there were many inside that were dead or dying. Was I just supposed to sit on the front steps and wait for the killing to end, twiddling my thumbs and humming to myself? Praying to God to let people live when I could be inside making that happen? That was just plain stupid.

I turned around to go back in. Then I turned back. I was finally out—why go back in? Because it was right. Because it could help. Because Eric was inside. Because I was outside.

I took a deep breath and crossed the doorframe. Almost instantly my eyes were drawn to Pam and a naked Hallow … looks like it was a good time to come back in. Hallow had just picked up a wolf and thrown it against the wall, too preoccupied shouting a loud war whoop to notice Pam creeping up behind her. Pam looked so disheveled and dirty I almost didn't recognize her.

Pam launched herself at Hallow, catching her around her bare hips. If Jason was here I'd bet he would be so turned on by this semi-naked girl fight.

It looked like Pam was as much of an enthusiast about football as she was about Dear Abby. If Pam had only aimed a little higher, and if Hallow wasn't so slippery with rain and blood, the witch would have been taken down. It would have been all over. But that would have been too easy now, wouldn't it?

She twisted in Pam's grasp and seized Pam's long straight hair with both hands and pulled, clumps of hair attached to a bit of scalp came too.

Pam literally screamed bloody murder and pinned Hallow to the ground by gripping her arms and pressing her down. But Hallow was almost too strong, and there was too much blood running down Pam's face and dripping on Hallow's stomach. But Hallow was human, and Pam was not.

Pam was winning until a man, a man with a goatee, snuck up behind Pam and bit her throat—just like that, just bit her throat like he was the vampire and she was the human.. Pam cried out but she couldn't do anything, since her hands were too preoccupied holding down Hallow. I could tell that as he drank, his strength increased—he was getting it on tap. He was getting energy right from the source. Pam was pissed as hell and couldn't decide who to beat up. But Hallow was starting to sit up a little straighter; Pam was losing juice.

I looked around—no one was watching me, no one ever watches the human—and leaped over the limp body of a wolf and scurried past bunches of fighting pairs and held the knife up to the guy's neck. After all, that's what the lookout had done to me, and I had stopped. Surely he would do the same.

Except he didn't. He didn't even turn around, didn't even acknowledge me. Just kept sucking.

I jabbed a little harder. "Let go of her." He still didn't turn around.

I pressed the knife in his back, drawing blood. He turned around then, Pam's blood dripping down from his chin. He let go of her and came after me, all the while thinking _kill kill kill kill_, and I stuck my knife out in front of me to protect me, to stop him from coming closer. Except I protected myself too well and he lunged into my knife, right in front of his neck, and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes went dull almost immediately.

He had killed himself by way of me. But I had been involved in his killing. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Now I knew I killed someone. I had to look straight ahead, look death right in the eyes. This was an in-your-face killing.

I tried to get my knife out, but it was stuck and I was too scared to try and force it out of this poor guy's trachea.

When I stopped gaping and looked up, I saw Pam sitting on Hallow's chest, her knees pinning down her arms. Pam was smiling. Not smirking or grinning but smiling—she looked like she was exactly where she wanted to be, doing exactly what she wanted to be doing.

This was so bizarre I looked around the room to see what the heck was causing this. Then I realized it looked like the battle was over. We appeared to have won.

Once I looked at the room, with more bodies being on the ground than standing upright, I almost wished for the mist. Vampires and wolves don't kill neat, they kill messy—and there was evidence everywhere.

The body—corpse?—sagged against me, and I rudely pushed him to the floor. I stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to see the blood and bodies, and the blood and body that were there because of me.

Since I didn't have any thoughts that I wanted to think about, I filled up with everyone else's. Mark this as the first time I was glad of my telepathy.

Scratch that. Everyone was thinking the same thing as me, but it was just multiplied. Everyone was tired, was scared, was surprised. And because I was all of those things and then some, I couldn't keep the thoughts out now that I let them in. There was too much everything.

But I forgot about that once I finally saw Eric. I burst into the tears that I had tried to hold back all night. Eric was alive, Eric was here, Eric was spotting me, Eric was running towards me. I ran towards him with my arms outstretched. This felt like that old hippy notion of running toward your lover in a field of flowers and woodland creatures—except I was running toward my lover and stepping around blood and bodies and werewolves.

"ERIC!" I cried out, somehow managing to make it louder than Hallow's shrieks and Pam's cackles of laughter and the Weres' howling. Eric shouted my name just as clearly and then he was swinging me around like a figure skater, my legs parallel to the floor and perpendicular to Eric's body and somehow in the most stable place they'd been in all night.

Then my feet were on the floor and Eric's lips were on mine and I couldn't be happier. He was alive, I was alive—we were alive together. I wasn't feeing too romantic or sexy right now, I just needed to be comforted and the only person who could do that was Eric. I pulled away and hugged him, my face smushed in his bloody and ripped shirt. I squeezed tight, just to reassure myself.

After that I moved slightly away and whispered, "Let's go and get out of here. They don't need us here. Let's just leave." Eric scooped me up and zoomed me out of the building.

Well, he didn't need to be told twice.

We were in the parking lot in no time. Eric plopped me down on the hood of my car and wrapped his arms around my waist. He ducked down and whispered, "You have blood all over you."

I looked down even though I already knew he was right. "Yeah, but don't get too excited about it," I warned, hoping that our frantic kissing from before wouldn't send out a mixed message. That was just survivor's lust. Now I was dealing with survivor's guilt.

The blood all over me, the blood that Eric was so excited about, was there because I killed someone, maybe two someones. It was there because people died and I saw it and I didn't do anything about it. I suddenly felt very tired and weary.

Eric didn't say anything, though I could tell he wanted to.

"I just want to go home. I just want to shower. I can't be strong or brave, Eric, I'm too tired for that right now," I blubbered, hic-upping noisily and feeling like a big baby. "I just really want to go home."

"Give me your car key." I looked up at him.

"Let me drive you home," he clarified. I still just looked up at him; that's about all I felt capable of doing right now.

I felt like we were two actors in a lame movie bored teenagers would watch in health class, where Eric was this guy at a party who didn't want me to drive home drunk. I laughed hysterically at that thought—could vampires get drunk if they drank from someone who was drunk? Hahahahaha. Well, I knew one way to experiment, and I would be more than happy to be the guinea pig if it meant I didn't have to think about what I saw earlier this evening.

""You're too upset and worried. Let me do this for you, Sookie."

Still laughing (why wasn't he? Couldn't he see the humor in this?), I dug the key out of my jeans pocket and handed it to him. He took it and picked me up, unlocking the car and carefully sliding me into the passenger seat. It wasn't until he got into his seat that I realized something I should have realized a while ago. "Can you even drive?"

"I have watched you before. I think I can manage it," he said determinedly before closing his door.

He put the keys in the ignition. The car roared to life, the only sound nearby. He shifted into drive and turned the headlights on and then we were in business. Once I saw him put the turn signal on and correctly merge into oncoming traffic, I relaxed into my seat, staring out the window at nothing in particular.

"You know how to get home, right?" I mumbled tiredly.

"I know how to go to Pam's house, and then I know how to get home from there. So yes," he replied, turning to look at me.

"Good." And then I held his hand for a while. And then I closed my eyes, just to rest them. And then I was out.

I woke up sometime later, when we were just passing Merlotte's. Except we passed Merlotte's way too quickly. I looked at the spedometer and was instantly wide awake.

"Holy smokes! Eric, you're going way too fast! Slow down!"

He threw me a look, but I wasn't budging. Sighing, he lowered the speed by ten miles, and by that time we were on the road leading to the house.

With heavy footsteps I walked with Eric to the house and unlocked the door. Everything looked like it had earlier, before I had killed people, before I knew it was a bad thing to take Eric's blood, before I met Elv--Bubba.

I leaned against the counter. Eric just stood and watched me, his face as readable as a Swedish textbook.

"Listen, Eric, I need to take a shower and have some alone time, you know?" I said wearily. I was tired and sore and scared and as comforting (among other things) as it would be showering with Eric, I knew I just wasn't in the right state of mind right now.

"What is the problem?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It's about tonight, what I had to see. It's ... it's not something you see every day. For me, at least. I'm not used to that ... and the ... what just happened. But a warm shower always seems to fix things, I've come to find. I'm sure I'll feel a little better afterwards."

He nodded solemnly and went to sit on the couch and watch TV. I shuffled upstairs and tried to scrub the night off of me. When I was as clean as I could be on the outside, I pulled on a pink nightgown and headed downstairs to tell Eric the shower was free. While he was in the bathroom, I decided to tuck myself in and lie down, just to rest while I waited for him.

When I woke up, I saw Eric lying next to me on his back.

"Hey," I said. He refocused his eyes on me; he was in some kind of down time before then, looking at nothing in the distance.

"Hey," he said softly. "Do you feel your condition has improved?"

I smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "I do now."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

…**..And now would be a good time to close that jar and hold it tight. We're on the top of the roller coaster now, folks. Be prepared to put your hands up and scream and be very scared. Hopefully you won't throw up :D**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hugs to my beta chiisai-kitty for looking over this in record time. I added a few things, though, so those mistakes you're seeing are mine. These characters aren't mine, however. They belong to CH. **

**-_-_-_-_-_-_**

The phone was ringing, and I sleepily opened my eyes, already smiling in anticipation of seeing Eric crouched in front of me with the phone in his hand, a sight I was used to be greeted with whenever the phone woke me up.

But there was no Eric—the phone was still on my dresser from the last time Pam called me. And I could see blue sky through the window, so it couldn't be Pam.

"Hello?" I croaked after I reached over and answered the phone.

"Hey Sook, it's Sam."

"Hi Sam," I said automatically. I yawned and looked at the clock—holy smokes! It was four o'clock in the afternoon!

"Just checking in on you. Are you okay, from last night? I'm so sorry I couldn't make it; I had Terry all set to cover for me and then he saw someone that looked like someone who served with him in the war or something and he took off."

"Oh, I hope he's okay. He'd been doing so well, too. But yeah, I'm fine. A couple bruises and sore spots, but I lived," I said, trying to make a joke. Apparently it was too early for me to start doing that, as Sam didn't say anything.

"This'll sound bad, but I'm kind of glad you weren't there to see everything that happened there, Sam. Those Supes … they really are something else," I added uneasily, trying to cover up the awkward silence.

Sam sighed. "Yeah, that's why I usually don't get too involved in that world. I like my life just the way it is."

"I'm sorry," I said in a very small voice. It was all my fault he had to get involved in the first place.

"Oh, shit, that came out wrong! I didn't mean it like that, I swear!" he yelped. "No, Sookie, I can't tell you how sorry I am that I couldn't be there for you!"

"It's fine Sam. Seriously. It's fine."

"Good." He sighed then. After a beat, he said, "So you're okay then?"

I groaned in response.

He laughed. "Sorry. But if you need to talk to a non-vampire or anything, you know I'm here, right? I'd love it if you could swing by sometime. Or I could come to you, if that's easier."

"Um, well, Eric gets up soon, but I think I'll be okay," I said as gently as I could, not wanting to hurt his feelings. Eric would be the perfect pick-me-up; based on what we've been doing, it maybe even be literally.

"Oh, oh. I see. Right. Okay. But, uh, the offer still stands. Anytime."

"I'll take a rain check, then. Bye Sam."

"Bye, cher. Take care now." _Click_.

I stayed in bed for a while, remembering how Eric and I had cuddled for what seemed to be hours, his arm around me as I snuggled against his chest. We didn't talk much, but it was exactly what I had needed: companionship without talking, closeness with clothes on, silence without awkwardness.

Eric always seemed to know exactly what I needed.

I got up to go to the bathroom and jumped when I looked in the mirror. That wasn't me—but it was! I didn't look like I had fought in a witch war; I looked like I just came back from the world's best spa. My hair was shinier and blonder, and was it even possible for it to look a little longer? I shook my head dismissively, and stared as my hair looked thicker too. My skin tone was more even, and my eyes looked bluer and my lips looked redder. I felt like I was staring at an air-brushed picture of me. Was that why all the fangbangers were so beautiful—because they drank vampire blood? This had to be because of the blood, right?

After a lot more pressing and examining and wondering, I was finally able to take a shower—which led to more inspection—and put on a low-key outfit of jeans and a sweater before eating the leftover date pizza from last night. I even went outside and picked up the mail and looked over my yard trying to figure out what flowers I should plant come springtime. I needed to kill time before Eric woke up.

I wandered back inside. Five-fifteen. I decided to read; I ignored the romance novels (didn't feel the need to when I had my own leading man in my life) and instead chose a historical fiction about the Civil War that Gran used to love.

A few chapters later I heard heavy, pacing footsteps and the sound of doors and shelves being yanked open. Eric was up. The other times he had awakened when I was in the house, he had immediately came downstairs, quick as a mouse and silent as sin—unless I asked him not to, like I did on our date night.

This was weird. I marked my spot in my book and placed it on the coffee table. After shrugging our blanket off of my legs, I started walking up the stairs. The noises stopped.

And then I was going backwards until I was hopelessly flattened against the front door, gasping for air as the telltale hands of a vampire gripped my neck and lifted me off of the floor. Eric. His fangs were out and his mouth was snarling and his eyes, his bright blue eyes, were on fire. They hurt to look at, they were burning so brightly.

He looked so undeniably ferocious and animalistic, so unlike the Eric I was familiar with. '_What was happening? Why was he doing this? What was he going to do to me? Was he going to kill me? Oh my god. Eric was going to kill me.'_

Suddenly he released my neck like it was made of silver and backed up away from me, his hands still in the air to distance us even more, like I was something gross he didn't want to touch. His eyes were as round as the large "O" his mouth made.

"You have had my blood?" he gasped, staring at me like I was the raging vampire. He now looked as surprised as I did. "How?"

I stared at him. What did he mean? Why was he telling me something we both knew? And why was he acting so damn surprised about something he suggested?

"You … you gave it to me, Eric. You gave me your blood," I finally stammered, not because I could breathe normally again but because I was scared and confused.

Why didn't he remember that? It was his idea anyways, taking his blood.

"That's impossible," he replied, sounding surer than before. "I do not know you. You are human."

I gaped. Why was he doing this? Eric knew me. Eric knew me better than anyone else.

"Yes, you do know me, Eric. It's me, Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse. Remember?" I said, automatically taking a step towards him. Almost immediately he quickly took two steps back, his hands still out in front of him.

He starting shaking his head so fast his hair was whipping his face. "No. I do not. I have never seen you before. Tell me how you have had my blood, and how I have had yours."

My jaw dropped when he said that; I couldn't help it. Gran would have said I was catching flies, but Gran had never fallen in love with a vampire who didn't seem to remember everything they had shared—laughs and smiles and caresses and kisses and conversations and hugs. I think she would understand.

"Did … Eric, did you hit your head last night? Is that why you don't remember me?" I squeaked, trying to think of reasons why he would be acting this strange. I wanted to reach out and touch him, hold his hand, caress his cheek, kiss his forehead—anything that would show that I knew him, knew him very well. But I was blocked by the searing memory of how he didn't like the last time I went closer to him, how he had reacted by moving farther away from me. I ran my hand through my hair instead and left it there, so he couldn't see how badly it was shaking. Although he probably could anyways; his vampire eyes could function as night-vision goggles, so why not hair-vision goggles?

His brows furrowed as he scowled. This was a new look—I was used to him waggling his eyebrows at me after he made a suggestive statement, I was used to him devilishly arching an eyebrow, I was used to him making a face as he shrugged his broad shoulders to show me he didn't know what was going on. But Eric scowling at me? Because of me? That was new. And I didn't like it. It wasn't good.

He was looking me up and down, and not in the way he had last night in my date clothes, not in the way he had last night when checking my injuries. His gaze was clinical and cold.

"I was not with you last night. I was with Pam and Chow, at Fangtasia. I went to a meeting with some new people." Doubt was creeping into his voice again, and then horror and fury swiftly replaced it as he growled, "You are a witch? You are aligned with Hallow?"

Now he was the one taking one threatening step towards me, and I was scurrying to back up, my hands in the air like I was trying to calm a wild horse.

"NO!" I shrieked, not even thinking about what I sounded like. Eric had never officially accused me of being aligned with Hallow, not even when I accidentally revealed my telepathy and gave him every reason to believe it.

He stayed where he was, but his piercing eyes grew harder. In a more restrained voice I continued, "No one's aligned with Hallow anymore, I think. Not after last night."

"You keep mentioning that. What happened last night?"

"The witch war was last night. Remember?" I said nervously, almost pleadingly. I was still waiting for him to break character and smile and say "Surprise!" after giving me the scare of my lifetime.

But he didn't. Instead, he said, "I told you, I don't know you. I don't know what happened last night. And you do. So tell me."

I winced. The more he kept saying that he didn't know me, the more I hurt, like it was a formula.

I backed up against the door in an effort to steady myself. I also placed my hand on the door knob for support, and Eric quickly stepped in front of me. He was even more threatening up close, with his face looking calm but his eyes looking wild. "Oh, no. You are not going anywhere," he growled. He crossed his arms, looking incredibly menacing and angry for someone with just a pair of plaid pajamas on.

I wanted to tell him I wasn't trying to leave, but I couldn't find the words. I limply released the handle and sunk to the floor as I lost it. Eric didn't know me. Eric didn't know what happened to him. He didn't remember anything.

He just stood there as I hugged my knees and took a lot of deep breaths. After a few moments he murmured, "Look at me ... Sookie."

My head snapped up, and I stretched my mouth into a big grin. I knew he was just kidding, the big jerk!

As I stared into Eric's blue eyes I could feel that same tingling in my brain, the same that came up when Pam and Chow tried to glamour me. NO!

Eric was trying to glamour me. He had never tried to do that, never. Not when he first met me on the side of the road, not when I invited him back to my house, not when he discovered my telepathy. I hadn't even known he could glamour people until yesterday.

As he realized I couldn't be glamoured his face adopted that same confused and angry look I was becoming too familiar with. And then it was gone, in a true blink-and-you-miss-it fashion. He was just regarding me blankly now, as if I was a statue in a museum he felt obligated to look at just because it was there.

I closed my eyes and slowly inhaled and exhaled before explaining, "Last night, you and me and Pam and Chow and Elvis-Bubba and Longshadow and Colonel Flood and Alcide and Amanda and a lot of other supes attacked Hallow and her coven. A lot of people died."

"Pam? Where is she? What have you done with her?" His eyes flashed with as many different emotions as there were shades of blue in his irises.

"I haven't done anything to Pam! I don't even know where she is!" I cried hurriedly, lifting my hands from my knees to make the standard "who knows?" shrug that Eric would hopefully recognize—because of course he'd be able to recognize a shoulder shrug and upturned palms over his lover. I cowered when his nostrils flared and he took a step towards me, so I explained, "She's probably at Fangtasia or at the nest with Chow! The last time I saw her she was on top of a naked Hallow at the end of the witch war!"

"Pam was on top of a naked Hallow at the end of the witch war?" he asked incredulously. Well, okay, I could understand why he would sound surprised.

I snorted. "Hallow had shifted back into human, and Pam tackled her. And then we left, so I don't know what happened afterwards. We being you and me." His eyebrows furrowed when I said that.

Then I thought about what probably happened after we had left. I dropped my head in my hands and moaned, "Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no,"

"What?" Eric thundered, taking a step toward me. "What is it?"

"That's why you don't remember anything. Oh my god. Hallow must have undone the curse. Oh my god," I said weakly, placing my head between my knees so I didn't have to see Eric's expression.

"Curse? What kind of curse? Is that why I don't remember anything—why I don't know you or this place or these pants? When did I meet with the witches?" His accent became more clipped, less disguised. The world as he knew it, the life he'd been in control of for over a thousand years, was no longer. All because of me. He had more important things on his mind than his pronunciation.

"You … you," I tried, but I didn't have it in me. I just couldn't do it. "You should call Pam," I finished lamely.

He didn't look happy, but he nodded. I shakily helped myself up and walked to the kitchen to get the phone. As soon as I returned he snatched it out of my hands and instantly dialed some numbers into the phone. I didn't even think to bring over the Fangtasia business card, and now I could see that it wouldn't be necessary.

He didn't even say hello, didn't say her name—just started talking really fast in some language I didn't even understand. I might have guessed that it was the same one I had heard him speak during … happier occasions, but I wasn't sure. Pam had said he spoke a lot of languages; they could even have made up their own spy code, for all I knew. After a few minutes he hung up and handed me the phone. "Already on her way," he muttered, not even looking at me.

"What?" I yelped. Did Pam know this was going to happen—is that why as soon as she woke up she hopped in her minivan?

He had been pacing around the room, but stopped when I said that. "Pam's driving here … wherever that is," he said, and immediately began pacing again. He was antsy as hell, and it was making me nervous.

"My house, in Bon Temps," I said, answering the question he hadn't wanted to ask.

He looked at me then, tilting his head slightly. I asked him if I could get him a blood, and after a heavy silence he shook his head.

We didn't say anything after that; he was too busy memorizing every inch of the house anyways, pacing around like the caged lion I once saw at the zoo Gran took me and Jason to when we were kids. He looked at everything but me, it felt like; I deflated when he picked up our blanket, stiffened, and then dumped it back on the floor. He moved into the dining room and the kitchen without asking if it was okay. I bitterly thought, _'Be my guest' _but quickly dismissed it.

Was that all Eric would be now? My guest?

Suddenly he zoomed back into the room, stopping a few feet away from where I was curled up in a ball on the couch, staring at a particular piece of nothing on the wall. "Pam's here. You'll need to invite her in," he announced, waiting for me to get up and walk over to the front door.

Before I could reply the door swung open and Pam walked in like she owned the place—both literally and figuratively. I hadn't invited her in, and Eric definitely picked up on that.

After a long, tense moment of Eric looking back and forth between me and Pam, he started speaking to her in that secret language, never raising his voice but still sounding very scary nonetheless. Pam glanced at me as she responded, in English, "Yes, but it's over now."

He narrowed his eyes and said something else, a little louder now, in that stupid language. She responded back, focusing only on him.

That was when I really started to feel myself slipping. Eric was the one who had to constantly admonish Pam and force her to speak in non-vampire talk for me. He did that so I would be able to understand what was going on, what they were saying when they were talking about me. He wanted me to have an equal say in things, or at least have the opportunity to if I didn't want to. I remembered how much that had meant to me that first night we met Pam and Chow. It had showed that he trusted me, and that he wanted me to know how much he trusted me.

And now, now he didn't. He may be speaking audibly, but he didn't trust me at all. I wished he just started speaking that vampire talk, because then at least I wouldn't know he didn't want me to be informed.

After a few minutes Pam broke off and walked over to where I was staring at the ceiling like it had posters of puppies and kittens on it that would help me stop crying. "Sookie, my favorite human," she smiled, giving me a small, quick hug.

"Pam, my new favorite vampire," I replied bitingly while staring at Eric, who was watching us intently. She raised an eyebrow but wisely didn't say anything. Eric wasn't as tact, dropping his jaw in surprise for a second before rearranging his face to have a look of bland disinterest.

As soon as Pam released me he started talking again, and then they were having a conversation—a pretty heated one, judging by the hand movements and the facial expressions and the fact that they hadn't bothered to sit down—like I wasn't even in the room. Like I was just the human. I obviously wasn't needed here, let alone wanted. And they obviously didn't care if I knew that.

I took a deep breath and walked upstairs; they didn't even ask where I was going or what I was doing, because they didn't even stop talking. I changed into my Merlotte's uniform, trying to forget how sure I had been earlier today that I would be spending my night with Eric instead of fetching beer and ketchup.

When I came back downstairs they didn't even look at me, still in the middle of their important talk. I silently retrieved my purse and my keys and opened the front door. When no one noticed, I softly said, "I have to go." They both stopped, Eric in the middle of gesturing with his hands, to stare at me. I gulped.

Pam nodded and smiled, but Eric just turned back to Pam and resumed speaking as if I hadn't said anything at all. Pam was slowly nodding her head at the same time Eric was shaking his dramatically. I don't think even think they heard the door slam behind me, even with their vampire hearing.

I burst into tears as soon as I turned out of the driveway.

-_-_-_-_-_-_

**So guys, thoughts? Opinions? This is my first real shot at angst, and there's going to be a lot more of it, so any comments are welcome!**

**BTW, have I told you guys recently how much you rock? No? Well, then ... YOU ROCK! :D**

**And now for something completely different…**

**Some of you may have seen that on Monday I posted a little teaser of this chapter on the Teaser Monday thread on the Sookiverse forum—you should subscribe or make it a habit to comb through the thread every Monday for the teasers to some of the best SVM fics!**

**Secondly, there is now a Sookieverse Blog that acts as our SVM/TB go-to page for all things SVM. Plus, your good friend afalcone10 (yeah, I referred to myself in third person, just roll with it) will be posting a book review of **_**Dead As A Doornail**_** on the website as soon as she gets her act together—as if you needed **_**another**_** reason to go check it out!! www(dot)thesookieverse(dot)com**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Wow! That last chapter pulled the most reviews! Thank you for not wanting to stake me. I have to say, that last chapter was a huge reason why I thought of this story. It's awful to think about, but it's true. I had to look down at my little "What Would Eric Northman Do?" (WWEND) bracelet quite a bit. And because of that (as I've already said in some review replies) I teared up a bit while writing that chapter, and this chapter, and the next one, and I'm sure for the next one. Amnesiac Eric was fun while he lasted. **

**Thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty for looking over this with her nifty beta-goggles and obliterating all my grammar mistakes with her ray-vision, and for CH for creating these characters. I did go back and tweak a little, so those stoopid mistakies r minez.**

**So, onto this chapter. *hands out chocolate and ice cream to everyone* *bites nails***

**-_-_-_-_-_-_**

I broke down and pulled over once I thought about Eric and how he'd never play with the radio in my car ever again. I felt so pathetic just sitting there with my head leaning against the steering wheel with the lights off and the engine killed. Hell, I'm sure the doors were unlocked and I was pulled over on the side of a dirt road in the middle of the night, but I didn't care if a were-bear came and mauled me. I was just glad I managed to make it this far until bawling my eyes out; there was no fucking way I'd let Eric see me cry, especially with his vampire senses.

Not now. Not after what just happened. Not when I was pounding the steering wheel and his seat like it was their fault this happened. Not when I was using crumpled gas receipts and suspicious looking napkins to wipe away my tears and snot.

I finally was able to make it into Merlotte's parking lot, though it took me longer than it usually does. But I got there and my eyes weren't too red and my cheeks weren't that wet and my head was held up high as I walked through the door and made my way over to the bar.

"Sookie?" Sam asked as soon as he saw me and my uniform, almost dropping the drink he was making. He sounded surprised, too surprised. He blinked his eyes and added, "I meant if you wanted to talk, not if you wanted to work."

My face fell. No one wanted me.

It must have showed, because he quickly stepped out from behind around the bar, slamming the drink on the counter, and, said, "Oh, cher."

I barely heard him, as I was already turning on my heel to walk out of the building. But suddenly Sam was next to me, taking me by the arm and walking me to his office. "Come with me," he muttered under his breath. I nodded, too busy trying to tune out the pesky, gossipy thoughts of everyone who was staring at me and wondering what happened.

He herded me into his office and closed the door as I stood dumbly, unsure of what to do or where to go or what to say. Then Sam offered me his comfy chair by his desk, the one he never let anyone sit in, and he knelt down in front of me so that our eyes were almost on the same level. I could see he really meant it when he murmured, "I'm sorry, cher. I just thought out loud. I'm sure we can squeeze you in." He patted my knee comfortingly, in an awkward sort of way.

I raised an eyebrow. The bar had patrons, sure, but not enough that another waitress would be needed in addition to the ones already working. I knew Arlene needed the tips real bad and Dawn would probably kill me if I took some of her tables. Well, no, maybe not KILL me, because of course that might be a turn off for Jason. But she wouldn't be happy, that's for sure.

I didn't need to be here, that was clear. Might as well have been written in chalk on the specials board, right underneath the soup of the day: "Sookie, you're not wanted. Chicken Fried Steak Platter: $15.99"

I shook my head. "No, I was stupid, I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't be here, I should have called first, I should have—" I broke off. There were so many things I should and should not have done.

"Stop that right now," Sam interrupted me, shaking my knee. "Sook, you can hang with me tonight and I can teach you how to bartend, in case I ever need you to do that for me one night. Does that sound alright? Just the Sam and Sookie show getting the whole town drunk?"

It did. Learning how to make drinks sounded exactly what I needed right now. I'd probably be too busy with all the new information to have a moment to think.

I smiled gratefully, albeit a little weakly. "Thanks, Sam."

"So … where's Eric?" he asked in what he thought was a casual voice. It wasn't. I fixed him a stern look and shook my head. I was not opening that can of Viking-shaped worms. Not to Sam, not to anyone.

But Sam didn't get it. He straightened up to his full height and crossed his arms while saying, "Cher? What happened tonight?" I didn't respond. "You know you can talk to me about it."

I peered up at him, right into his blue eyes that I always thought were pretty, but now they just looked like a pale imitation of Eric's blues. "I don't want to talk about it. How do you make a mojito?"

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Luckily the night picked up, or else I would have started making drinks for myself so I wouldn't have to worry about Sam sometimes stopping to stare at me when he thought I wasn't looking.

Arlene and Dawn came sniffing around to see what I was doing here since I wasn't on the schedule, but other than that I just made bartender talk with the good people of Bon Temps, who couldn't believe I was behind the bar serving drinks instead of running around serving food. I felt sad that they thought that was a big, important change. They had no idea what my life was like, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna fill them in.

Luckily, talk soon switched to the few flakes of snow fluttering around outside. It hadn't snowed in Bon Temps in over fifty years, so of course it would snow on the weirdest, most horrible night of my life. I would rather become stuck in time and relive the witch war over and over again than think about how sure Eric sounded when he said he did not know me, or how he had tried to glamour me and purposely not speak English so I couldn't understand what he was saying to Pam.

But that's all I could do since everyone somehow became convinced that it would be a good idea to drive home sober that night; the immense snowfall of ¼ of an inch would definitely make the dirt roads slippery. As pretty and foreign as the snow was, I hated it because my workload quickly dropped and I had nothing to do but what I really didn't want to do: be alone with a very curious Sam and my self-mutilating memories.

Luckily Sam disappeared around back for a while, and when I walked by the office his door was closed. After I cleaned up and put all the chairs on the table so Terry could come in tomorrow morning to mop and clean the toilets, I yelled goodbye to Sam and left before he could even walk out of his office.

I reflected that I would probably be going home to an empty house, and I felt heavier and older at the thought. One small part of me wished that Eric was still there, even with all his terrifying forgetful ways, but that part got eaten by the logical part of my brain. Why would Eric stay for me, anyways? He didn't know me, or so he thought.

There wouldn't be a Viking for me to be snowed in with. Because he didn't want to be anywhere near me.

Eric wouldn't ask me about my day. Because he didn't care what happened to me.

He wouldn't sit with me and drink blood as I fixed myself a snack. Because he didn't want to keep me company.

I wouldn't be able to lay my head on his chest as we watched TV. Because he didn't want me to touch him.

I didn't even allow myself to think about what I wouldn't be doing all night long instead of sleeping.

A light tapping on the windshield jolted me out of my thoughts. I hadn't even started the car, hadn't even pulled out of Merlotte's parking lot, I was so distracted.

Sam was on the passenger side of the car and once he saw that I saw him he waved, opened the door, and cautiously sat down in the seat next to me.

"What are you still doing here, Sookie? You left Merlotte's like twenty minutes ago. I was just closing up when I saw your car here," Sam asked in the careful voice he usually uses when asking Merlotte's resident drunk, Jane Bodehouse, to give him her car keys.

That was not a good voice to be talked to with. No it was not.

"Sorry. Lost track of time, I guess. I was just thinking," I murmured, staring straight ahead. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Sam had rearranged himself to be facing me, even if it seemed to make his long legs real smushed and his back flattened against the door.

"Thinking about what?" he gently prodded. I sighed and didn't answer.

"I called Pam tonight," he said after he realized I wasn't going to be contributing anything to the conversation.

That got my attention. I turned and stared at him. "What did she say?" I asked automatically.

He grinned sheepishly. "She didn't call back. I left a voicemail at Fangtasia."

"Oh," I replied, looking away and understanding that my reaction just gave Sam a whole folder of new stuff to talk about. Damn.

"What did you think she would say?" he asked. Ugh, I knew there'd be no way he'd let me get off that easily.

"I think you're planning on quitting the restaurant business to become a therapist, and I think I'm your guinea pig," I retorted, not really answering his question. I knew I was being childish and sulky and everything Gran raised me not to be, but I didn't want to talk and Sam needed to get that. He wasn't right now.

Sam did. He frowned. "I'm not trying to be a therapist, cher. I'm trying to be your friend, if you'll let me. You look like you could use one right now."

I swallowed. He was right. Sam was just being my friend, and I was pushing him away for something he didn't do. "I'm sorry, Sam," I apologized, patting his hand that was sitting on the arm rest. "It's just ... I don't know. I don't want to talk about it, but I don't want to think about it either."

"I think you should just try talking it out, getting it off of your chest. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but it kind of seems you don't have anyone else to talk to. So talk to me. Vent. Complain. Whine. Just don't keep me in the dark, okay?"

I nodded. He was so right, more right than I wanted him to be. I already knew I was alone; I didn't need someone else to tell me that. With Gran gone, Jason chasing boobs and booze, and Eric ignoring me, I really didn't have anyone. Except Sam.

I took a deep breath and peeked over; he was looking at me earnestly, raising his eyebrows when he noticed me looking at him. Sam was a good friend; he attended the supe meetings even though he didn't want to, and he helped me cope today. He deserved to know why he had to do all this extra credit work.

"Eric … Sam, I think Eric got his memories back. I think Pam was able to fix the curse, Hallow's curse. He doesn't remember me, Sam. He doesn't remember anything about what happened these past couple of days," I said very quietly and very quickly, but Sam still managed to pick up on it. At least, I think he did, because he got into the normal sitting position for a car seat and leaned his head on the headrest, with his eyes closed.

"Shiiiiiiiiit," he groaned. I nodded in agreement, but he didn't see it since his eyes were still closed.

"That's why you didn't want to be at home. That's why you don't want to go home," Sam said, sounding like he had an imaginary light bulb glowing over his head.

"Yep."

"How bad is it?"

"It's real bad," I mumbled without thinking about who I was talking to.

Sam's eyes popped open as soon as I said that. "Did he hurt you, when he woke up?" He moved closer to me, and I thought he was going to give me a hug until I realized he was looking me over for injuries.

"Oh my god, I'm fine!" I yelped hurriedly, wanting him to stop freaking out and realize that, amazingly, the confused, scared vampire didn't attack me. He pulled back a little, but he still looked skeptical. "Well, he did pin me against the door, but he let go of me when he realized I had ingested his blood. That threw him off a lot, and then once he figured it out he backed the hell away from me."

Sam opened his mouth to say something but I didn't want to hear it. "Yes, it was wrong of him, but he didn't hurt me at all. Once he figured out something was up he didn't even go near me. I was just a stranger to him, a stranger whose house he randomly woke up in. I still am." I took a deep breath, shuddering a little before I whispered, "It's real bad because we were, um, _really_ close. We did a lot of things together. Good things. And now he doesn't remember anything."

Sam ran a hand though his hair. "Jesus Sookie, you sound like you're in love with Eric."

I didn't say anything. What could I say?

He quickly turned to face me and cried, "You do love him, don't you? Christ, did you … did you sleep with him?!"

Outraged, I huffed, "That's none of your business."

Sam obviously thought it was. He exploded, exclaiming. " It is when I'm trying to pick up the mess he obviously doesn't want to clean up!"

I gasped, and he instantly looked like he regretted ever opening his mouth. But that didn't stop me from reaching over and slapping him as hard as I could with my left hand.

"Get out," I growled, staring at my red hand print on his cheek. Sam didn't reach up to touch his cheek, he didn't move, he didn't say anything. He just looked at me with questions in his eyes that I didn't want to answer. "I didn't ask you to try and pick up the mess, did I, Sam? No, I didn't. You practically weaseled your way in, with your 'talk to me because you don't have anyone else' bullshit. DON'T you EVER refer to me as a mess again, do you understand me? I may be weepy and distracted and quiet, but I'd like to see you go through the hell I've been through tonight and not get upset. So why don't you just get the fuck out of my car, Sam Merlotte. Now."

"But—"

"Just get out!" I shrieked. I looked out my window and didn't move my gaze until after I heard the car door open and shut and then saw Sam through the rearview window. He walked over to the front of Merlotte's with his hands behind his head. And that's all I saw, because then I turned the car on and peeled out of Merlotte's as fast as I could.

I drove back to my house on auto-plot, fuming every time I thought about something other than the road ahead of me … the road I had picked up Eric on. Damn. Here we go again.

The lights in my house were on when I pulled into my driveway, and my heart soared. Eric had stayed for me!! I knew he would! I ran up the stairs two at a time and flung the door open, a smile already in place.

The kitchen was empty. The living room was empty. Both bedrooms were empty. Even the bathroom was empty. I checked for any minds, but there wasn't any.

Eric hadn't stayed for me. Pam hadn't either. They had just forgotten to turn the lights off. That's all.

I flopped down on my bed, dropping my keys on the floor and not even bothering to pick them up as I pressed my face into Eric's pillow and tried my best not to cry. I wish I could say I was being strong about this, but I'd be lying if I did. I'd be a lying fool.

I was truly all alone now. Eric was out of the question. Pam would only talk about Eric. Chow was a big fat no. I couldn't deal with Sam after what just happened. Jason apparently only cared about me when I had working appliances that he could use while watching a football game; no television, no brother. Arlene had no idea who Eric even was or what I'd been doing these past days, so I'd have to explain everything to her and I definitely didn't want to do that. Sam was right.

I didn't have anywhere to go. I didn't have anyone to see. I didn't have anything to do.

I could cry all I wanted to. No one would see it, would know about it—would have to, have to clean it up or deal with it. So I cried myself out. Not the cute, movie-scene crying where everything else looks fine except for that the cheeks look a little wet, mind you—this type of heartache demanded the big, snot everywhere, eyes all puffy and red, sopping wet shirt sleeve kind of crying that makes you look like shit because you feel like shit. That kind of crying. And I was bringing it, big time.

But there's only so much crying you can do, even for me, before you have to start doing something else with your time. So, I changed into my comfiest pajamas and slippers and shuffled downstairs to the kitchen. After some digging around in the freezer I found the last pie Gran had ever made, a pecan pie. I had saved it after she passed, and vowed to only eat it when I really needed it, to savor her presence and make it last as long as I could. Since she died I had only eaten two slices, one after her funeral and a smaller one when there was a leak in the roof and I had to dip into my meager savings account to pay for it.

Well, if I couldn't have Gran tonight, I was going to have the next best thing, her pie. I smiled sadly when I realized I could have my pie and eat it too.

I fixed myself a piece and then almost dropped the the plate once I opened the refrigerator door to get some whipped cream and milk. Eric's blood was still in the fridge. That set me back significantly.

After pouring out every TrueBlood and blood packet into the sink, I sat down and ate every last bite of that pie. And I did it all silently, with tears streaming down my face and sometimes getting on my slice, and then my second slice, and then my third slice. And you know what? I still ate it, tears and all. I ate the whole damn pie. I even licked the pan clean, and my plate too.

It wasn't until after I cleaned up that I realized there was a small piece of paper on the other end of the kitchen table. I jumped out of my seat so fast I knocked my chair over, but I didn't even care until I looked down and saw it was just the Fangtasia business card, staring up at me innocently, like it didn't just trick me into thinking maybe something good would happen to me tonight.

But ... that card always had its own special spot on the windowsill. I hadn't touched it until that time I had to call Pam and ask her about what would happen since Eric bit the top of a beer bottle off for me.

But there it was on the table, with the side with Pam's cell phone number written in her loopy cursive and extravagant numbers. I eagerly flipped it over, but there weren't any secret messages or clues anywhere. Huh? Maybe it was there for a reason. Maybe someone put it there for a reason. Maybe I was supposed to call Pam. Yeah, that's probably it.

But I wasn't ready for that yet. And I wasn't ready to hear what she would say. Or wouldn't say.

I dropped the card back on the table and walked away. Somehow I ended up in the living room—looking right at Eric's blanket. That blanket. I hated it now, and not just because of its color scheme. I hated it for the memories that would be forever entwined with the brown and orange yarn. For what that blanket meant for Eric, for us.

I scooped it up in my arms and carried it with me upstairs. I threw it on my bed before I turned around and picked up Eric's clothes that were sitting on his chair—jeans and boxers and shirts that would forever have the smell of Eric lingering on them. The clothes that I had washed and dried and folded, like he was my husband or live-in boyfriend—which I had thought of him as, especially in the last couple of days. The clothes that would come off right before Eric would get me off, or cuddle with me. Those went on top of the blanket. So did his rubber flip flops.

His iPod wasn't on the dresser like it usually was. I wondered if he had taken it with him, wherever he went.

I dismissed that thought and I bundled everything up, making my own ravioli-blanket-thing so that all of the Eric memorabilia was hidden in the folds of the linen. And then I triumphantly strolled over to Eric's opened hidey hole; he must have forgotten to close it earlier. Now it was empty. Well, now it wouldn't be.

I ceremoniously dumped the blanket into the rectangular dug out and closed the hatch with a satisfying thud. I even stomped on it for good measure. Then I pushed my entire shoe collection and other closet junk on top of the outline of the hatch so I wouldn't have to look at it and be reminded of Eric.

If only the saying "out of sight, out of mind" was true.

-_-_-_-_-_-_

**The scene in **_**True Blood**_** where Sookie eats the pie had me in tears, so that's where that came from. And I always wondered what Sookie did with Eric's Walmart clothing and his hidey-hole after he got his memory back, so there you have it. **

**No Eric this chapter, I know, but he'll be in the next one. Promise. **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hi there! A little later posting, but I think this chapter is a bit easier on the heart than the past two. I want to say thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty (although any remaining mistakes are mine, which is yucky), and I couldn't have done this without CH's characters either.**

**-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_**

My purging of all things Eric ended with me lying in bed, wishing for a sleep that didn't want to come. I don't know if it's because I was used to keeping vampire hours with my vampire or because I was more than preoccupied with my thoughts, but no matter how many times I tried to think of nothing or count sheep or imagine the waves on the beach, I remained awake in my own personal nightmare.

Then I thought, maybe if I had some answers I wouldn't stay up trying to come up with my own. Yeah, that was it. Pam would have the answers. She always did. I padded downstairs in my comfiest, snuggliest pajamas and slippers, and dialed Pam's cell phone number as I plopped myself on the couch.

"Yes?"

I barked a short, hard laugh. Of course the one constant in this whole mess would be Pam's complete inability to politely answer the phone. "Hi Pam."

"Sookie Stackhouse."

"Pam Vampire." Hah. It rhymed. Kind of.

"I suppose you want to be informed."

"Wouldn't anyone?"

"Yes. So, I was successful at removing the curse," she remarked casually. All of a sudden it became easier to hear her voice, and I wondered if she had moved to a quieter place in the bar. If she was even at Fangtasia tonight. Hell if I know.

I snapped, "Oh, come on, Pam. I figured that out all on my own. Give me some credit."

"Yes, Eric, ah, mentioned how you brought up that possibility—and also how I was on top of a naked Hallow."

I ignored her dig and asked the one question that had been infecting my brain ever since earlier this evening. "If Eric got his memory back, then why doesn't he have any memories of me?"

Pam was quiet. Then she answered, more to herself, "That's a good question."

"Do you have a good answer?" I snapped. I didn't want her to play stalling games with me. I wanted to get the facts, and then get the hell away from this hurt—rip it off like a band-aid.

Another pause. A bigger one. Finally, she murmured, "No."

"Why not?"

"Hallow just reversed the curse. That's all I cared about at that moment."

"Pam, when will Eric remember me? Tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know if he'll ever remember me or if he won't remember me tomorrow?"

"Both."

"Why not?"

She replied sharply, exasperatedly, "I said, I don't know. Hallow did her job, reversed the curse, Lucinda said everything worked fine and now would be the time to kill her, so I did. Slowly. The first priority was to make sure Eric got his memories back. We weren't aware of the possibility that he wouldn't remember you."

I sighed. "Well then, what do you know?"

"Eric is just as confused and upset as you are." Then, after a moment, she said, in the kind of convincing tone you take on when you're talking to someone who doesn't believe you no matter how much you want them to, "What? It's true." Her voice sounded fainter, like she had briefly turned away for a second while talking, like she was defending her actions to someone else in the room.

"What do you mean?"

"The blood, for example, really … freaked? Is that what they say—freaked? It freaked Eric out. His blood is very valuable, even amongst vampires. He does not just hand it out. So when he discovered that he had given you his blood, willingly, that surprised him—that he would find a human he'd want to be close with, want to feel, want to know more about. That he would find someone like you."

I didn't know what to say to that, other than a small, "Oh."

Pam continued, "He questioned me for hours. About everything you can imagine. About everything I knew about you, about the two of you." Then, after a moment, she added, "He was so annoying. All the vampires were interrogated, especially me. I had to draw a timeline. I even had to dig up Fangtasia's security tapes from the first meeting with the Weres."

"Why?"

"Because he wanted to know what he was like when he was with you. Like how he acted with you on his chair, while you were interviewing the witches, in his office, at the bar. How he fought for you when that Were insulted you. How he sat with you instead of by himself or with me and the other vampires. He needed to see it to believe it, and even now I don't think he quite believes it. Even after many, _many_ viewings."

"Why not?"

Pam laughed, a little. "You sound like Eric now."

"Stop distracting me."

Now she really laughed. "You really do."

"Cut it out, Pam. It isn't funny." It wasn't. I didn't sound like Eric, because I wasn't Eric. I would never just blatantly ignore someone just because I could, or try to make them feel like an outsider who didn't belong in her own house. And of course, I was nowhere near as gorgeous as he was.

"Maybe not to you."

I decided to change the subject, and see if that would get her to stop. "What did you say in my house, when you were speaking in that other language?"

That quieted her. She paused before answering, "I said what needed to be said."

"Gee, Pam, could you please be a little vaguer?" I suggested sarcastically, in no mood for her evasiveness. I wanted answers, dammit. I didn't want to be made fun of, and I didn't want to not be taken seriously.

"Yes," she said quite simply. I groaned in frustration, but she didn't elaborate.

Instead, she curiously asked in a softer voice, "You were close with Eric, weren't you?"

"Yeah," I replied wearily. "Too close, is what I'm feeling now."

"Interesting."

"Yeah, sure. Where will we go from here? What will we do now?"

"I don't like saying this phrase, but you've already made me say it twice before. I don't know. I can't answer that question. That's for you and Eric to decide."

"But Eric doesn't want to talk to me."

"I wouldn't say that."

"He _does_ want to talk to me?" I asked hopefully.

"I wouldn't say that either."

I sighed. "Well then, what would you say?"

"Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get next."

I lost it. I started laughing and laughing, even more when Pam asked me what was wrong. This, this was just too much. "Oh my God, Pam, you did not just quote _Forrest Gump_ to me," I managed in between guffaws. Of course she would. I should have expected it. Good Lord, my life is a fucked up box of chocolates, ones with soft vampire insides and then hard, nasty vampire outsides, and also ones that look like they'd be good to eat but then after a couple bites it's nothing you expected. What, that's a damn good metaphor and of course I'm going to extend it!

"Yes … I did, Sookie," Pam said confusedly, causing me to start laughing all over again. She can't pick up on that saying, but she can quote _Forrest Gump_? Dear Lord. "Humans often have unexpected events in their shortened life span. And I understand chocolate often helps in these kinds of situations."

"These kinds of situations? Oh come on. Like there's anyone else who fell head over heels for a thousand-year-old vampire who was cursed by a witch and consequently lost all his memories only to suddenly remember everything except the girl he admitted he had feelings for."

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and instantly stopped my tirade—I had been planning on inserting a snarky comment about how I hoped that person hadn't already started on a book series, because my life right now would be a genius plot premise—because all retorts died on my tongue. Vampires don't need to breathe, and I had noticed that they only sighed or inhaled on important occasions. So I waited silently, terrified and eager to hear what Pam would say next.

"Eric admitted he had feelings for you?" Pam said slowly, like she was questioning a kindergartner to make sure she heard correctly.

"Yeah, so? He obviously doesn't have them now." That was just a memory—one that only I retained and would ever retain, I reflected in the silence that followed my statement. Pam didn't say anything, and I wondered if she was even on the phone. "Pam, you there?"

"Yes," she said simply. "What did he say, when he told you that?"

"Um … he said he had warm feelings, good feelings. He liked having them. Then I said I had those same kinds of feelings, and I liked them too. He wanted to give me blood so we could continue having those feelings, so he did." Again, more silence. "Why did you want to know, Pam?"

It was quiet on her end of the phone, too quiet. I wondered if she wasn't talking, or if she had her hand over the phone or something? After a couple anxious-filled seconds, in my opinion, she came back and answered softly, "Just to know."

"Let me guess, that's all I'm gonna find out about that?"

"Correct."

"Well then, if that's everything, goodbye Pam. I'm going to go to sleep now and maybe I'll find out this was all a nightmare. Nice talking to you, as always."

"Good night, Sookie," Pam said with more warmth in that parting than she had had in the entire conversation. That encouraged me.

"Pam?" I asked.

"Yes?"

I took a deep breath. Pam wasn't much for friendliness, and I was still surprised that she seemed to warm up to me and had even hugged me in front of Eric earlier, but this was a big step.

"Just because … things are, um, different with Eric now, doesn't mean we can't be … friends, right?"

Pam had been the only person to make me feel a little better tonight; she had made me laugh—I couldn't even do that. Sure, she might have some sort of weird vampire personality disorder—the leather-wearing bar owner and the wannabe soccer mom who can't have kids—but I found that I enjoyed her company. And I could use a friend, since I didn't have any right now. And it didn't seem like I'd have any for a while.

"Friends? I don't think I've ever been friends with a human … even when I was a human." My shoulders sagged and I balanced the phone on my shoulder as I hugged a pillow to my chest and squeezed it for comfort. Of course she wouldn't want to be friends with me. She's the vampire, I'm the human. I'm the kind-of ex-girlfriend to her best vampire friend. I'm off limits. I shouldn't have asked. God, what was I thinking?

Then Pam added, "But I think I can make an exception for you, Sookie. You are different from other humans."

I grinned giddily and threw the pillow on the floor, any doubt or worry instantly erased. "Oh, great. Awesome!! Thank you, Pam."

"Thank you for what?"

I almost said, "For being my friend," but I didn't want to admit that. "Just … thank you for helping me. I ... I needed it."

"Yes. Well. Goodbye."

"Buh-bye."

I hung up, but didn't get up from the couch for a while, too busy processing. I was glad I called. Because now I knew Eric wasn't ignoring me like he had earlier. Based on what Pam said, he was doing anything but. I felt full just at the thought, like satisfied after-Thanksgiving-dinner full.

And even though I didn't like it, I could now see why Eric had reacted this way. I guess it was kind of like going to Vegas and getting so hammered you end up getting married to the hotel maid by an Elvis impersonator. Right now we were at the part where he wakes up in the morning with a horrible hangover and thinks, "What the fuck happened last night?"

Only trouble was, would Eric ask for an annulment, if there was such a thing for us, or would he stay and try and work it out? I had no idea. Well, I had one, but I don't think it was the same idea Eric had.

I went back upstairs and slipped under the covers. Before I could re-analyze the information Pam had given me, I was asleep.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Sam and I hadn't worked out when I would come back to work after he rearranged my schedule to work with the vampire's, and I didn't even know if I had a job at Merlotte's after I bitch-slapped my boss. I smirked while thinking that yeah, I bitch-slapped my boss, no big deal—but I was glad I wasn't working today, because I slept in until two.

I was tired and lethargic and lazy. I read a good chunk of the book I had started yesterday. I baked banana bread. I made myself pancakes for lunch, just because.

And I visited Gran's grave. I laid fresh flowers by her tombstone and poured some sweet tea in the grass; she'd always loved sweet tea. Then I talked. I talked about Eric and how I forgot to ask where he'd been during the Civil War, because I knew she would have liked to known. I told her everything, not leaving a single detail out, not even the bedroom ones. I told her all the cute things Eric would do without even noticing, like how he liked turning on the car radio and scrunching his eyebrows when he didn't understand a certain phrase. I mapped out the building of the witch headquarters when describing the fight. I talked myself out, but it felt therapeutic; when I was talking I was absentmindedly plucking grass and making my own feng shui garden by plowing a stick in the fresh dirt.

Then I wondered. I wondered what Gran would have thought about Eric. I wondered what would have happened if Gran was still alive the night I spotted Eric on the road. I wondered if Eric ever re-visited her grave.

Once I ran out of things to say or do, I kissed the angel on her tombstone and made my way back to the house. I picked up around the yard. I tried to plot out what flowers and shrubs I could buy in the spring, and where I could put them. I got the mail.

There, stuck in between the electric bill and a clothing catalogue, was a plain envelope with "Sookie Stackhouse" written on the front in someone's freakishly crabbed handwriting. There was no return address, no postage stamp. Someone must have dropped it off, then.

I opened it up right then and there, expecting an invitation to some party I didn't want to go to because there I'd have to pretend to be happy and upbeat when I wasn't.

Inside was a personal check for $50,000 signed by an Eric Northman. Nothing else. Just the check. Made out for _way_ more money than it was supposed to be. Why? Why did he want to give me an extra $15,000 for something he had no recollection of me doing or him even agreeing to do?

The check was white and impersonal and looked too much like the checks Sam used for our paychecks. Eric even had it printed with just his name on the top left corner, no address or anything—could you even do that? Did he not trust me or something?

The reason for the check was listed as "Promised compensation." I brought it closer to my face, squinting in the sunlight to make sure I was reading everything right. The writing matched the writing on the envelope

Did that mean Eric stopped by sometime yesterday evening or maybe really early this morning? Because I got the mail yesterday before he woke up. Did he drop it off, like a special-delivery flown in from Shreveport? Did he wonder what I was doing as he slipped the envelope in the mailbox? Was this as close to the house as he came?

Wait, who am I kidding? This is Eric 2.0; he probably had Pam drop this off. This was just another item on the big vampire to-do list, squished in between making the coffin and picking up around the nest, or somethin. As he made it all too clear last night, he had no interest in being nice and considerate to me.

As I trudged back to my house, I realized that if Pam put this in the mailbox, she probably would have left a note for me, to show she had been here. She might have even stopped by to say hello.

I stared at that flimsy piece of paper for so long I memorized how the writer—Eric?—made all the letters all the same height and how the "y" wasn't curled at the bottom of the "fifty." The check wasn't crimpled at the corners or folded, but was fresh and crisp. Someone had handled it carefully, protectively.

This was more money than I was supposed to have, and a hell of a lot more money than I first wanted. And though I was tempted to send it back, I couldn't. That was a lot of money. I needed the money. I needed it for the house and taxes and insurance. It didn't make me feel like a kept woman, like I always thought it would— because Eric didn't want to keep me.

I decided I'd write a thank-you letter. I got out some stationary and a pen and an envelope and a stamp, but I didn't do anything but stare at them.

Writing a thank-you note was taking the easy way out. A letter can be lost or ignored or thrown away—and I wouldn't be surprised if Eric did any of those. But a phone call, as personal and gutsy as it was, can't be discarded or tossed in a garbage can. Was I ready for that—talking to Eric? Probably not. But I wanted him to hear what he had done. I wanted him to acknowledge me, and what happened with me. I wanted him to … to take a step in cleaning up the mess he made. Yes, I would call a little after sunset.

I busied myself with cooking a chicken dinner for me, with mashed potatoes and corn and biscuits. I took my time making my dinner, and I took my time eating it too. After I washed the last plate, I looked out the window and it was completely dark.

Was I really going to go through with this?

Yes. Yes I was. Now.

"Fangtasia, where all your bloody dreams come true," a bored feminine voice asked after two rings.

"Yes, this is Sookie Stackhouse."

"Good evening, my little telepathic friend," she said brightly. Pam.

"Hi."

"I was going to call you soon, actually."

"Oh yeah? Why?" I asked, thinking that maybe Eric remembered me. I wanted her to use her vampire speed and talk faster. _Come on, come on, come on! Hurry up!_

"Your presence is required at Fangtasia tonight."

"What?" I blurted. Oh my God. Shock. Disbelief. Hurt. _Your presence is required at Fangtasia tonight._

She dutifully repeated, "Your pres—"

"No, no, I heard you the first time. I just didn't understand it."

"What's not to understand? Your presence is required at Fangtasia tonight."

I sighed impatiently. "Yeah, but why? And who requires my presence?"

"Eric." Funny how she answered both of my questions with one word.

"So why were you going to call me? Surely he remembers how to use a phone."

"He does. But he wanted me to call you and tell you your presence was required."

"Stop saying it like that," I hissed.

"Like what?"

"Like how you phrased it when you called Sam. Is that where I'm at now, on Eric's social hierarchy? With the shifter that y'all dislike?" I shut my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, as if that would lessen the blow of the verbal punch that Pam was surely going to give me any second.

She didn't say anything for a while. Then, "Why were you calling?"

I blanched. She didn't want to answer me. I was a shifter. I was worse than a shifter. I was a Sookie.

"I wanted to thank Eric," I replied shakily.

"Thank Eric for what?"

" … For the check."

"Check? What check?" Pam said, sounding more confused than I'd ever heard her.

"The check from Eric Northman that I found in my mailbox today? For fifty thousand dollars?"

"You found a fifty thousand dollar check from Eric in your mailbox today?" She was incredulous now.

"Yep." _What's not to understand, Pam?_

"Well, that would be a good reason to call." I snorted. She continued, "Perhaps that's why your presence is required tonight."

"Pam, I asked you to stop phrasing it like that."

"Sookie, he wants to meet you, properly. He wants to ask you the questions I can't answer. He wants to figure you out. And now, he probably wants to talk about the check. Come at nine."

I looked at the clock on the microwave. It was 8:00 and I still had to shower and pick out an outfit and pretty myself up so that Eric would know what he was missing. A nine o'clock arrival just wasn't going to happen.

"I'll be there at ten. And there better be a gin and tonic waiting for me, because I'll need it before I do any talking to Eric," I replied quickly. And then I hung up on Pam before she could say anything else.

I felt like a BAMF—I just hung up on a vampire! Boo-yah.

And then I felt like a nervous BAMF—which really isn't a BAMF at all—when I realized I had two hours to make me look like I was perfectly happy and gorgeous and having the time of my life.

I needed all the time I could get. Especially now that I knew that Eric had snuck over to my house sometime in the past twenty-four hours to drop off the biggest tip of my career and, more importantly, maybe check up on me. All without telling the person he trusted the most.

I felt good, better than I had in the past twenty-four hours. Maybe, seeing how things pan out, I'd continue having my condition be improved, as Eric once said. I sure hope so.

** -_-_-_-_-_-_-_ **

**Ehh? What about those phone calls or the envelope, or why there's a lack of mention about Chow? Or how about Sookie's going to Fangtasia and seeing Eric next chapter? I know I said Eric would be in this chapter, but I've already wrote the next one and it's a **_**really**_** BIG one, in both size and importance, so I wanted to split it up. Sorry!**

**You guys are so creative and witty, I always get a kick out of reading your reviews and seeing what you think/want to happen. So please, drop me a line or two—or more, you know :)**

**** I totally forgot to add this in the original A/N, but everyone here should check out the Dead Pan Contest entries, and even write one of your own! I'm working on mine now, and it's a lot of fun! Please?**

**http://www .fanfiction .net/~deadpancontest  
**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I know everyone's dying to read this chapter, so ... THANKYOUTOMYBETACHIISAI-KITTYANDCHARLAINEHARRIS'SCHARACTERS!**

**-_-_-_-_-_**

I wish I had told Pam I'd go to Fangtasia three hours later—I had used the extra time to shower and do my hair and makeup and get dressed, but I definitely could have used more time to emotionally prepare myself for whatever was going to happen at the club.

Now that I was here, waiting in line in front of Fangtasia, I was so out of my element. Not just about Eric or Pam or what might happen, but about everything. I had totally missed the memo about dressing up in all black, like everyone else within a ten-mile radius of this club, apparently. I knew Dawn had worn black when she went to Fangtasia, but I thought that was just her. Nope. I didn't have a lot of black clothes, except for the black pants or shorts I wore to work—so I just made do and picked out the prettiest dress in my closet. It was white with red flowers, reaching to a little bit above my knees; the dress had a square neckline that was more revealing than it sounds. I didn't come dressed up like Dawn because I didn't have the same purpose—she wanted sex, and I wanted answers. She wanted to seduce Eric, I wanted to question him. And I wanted the color to set me apart from everyone, make me stand out. Fangbangers—dark, black. Bad. Sookie—white, innocent. Good.

Even so, I was freezing my butt off, since I wasn't wearing the gray cardigan I had brought with me; my curves kind of melted under the extra fabric. I had been in ratty clothes the first, and maybe so far only, time Eric saw me, so I wanted to really show him what I could look like. If he expected me to come over here with mascara-tears and old sweats, he was dead wrong. Tonight I wanted to be noticed—noticed by Eric, that is—goose bumps and all.

So far, the only people noticing me were the fangbangers—and by the thoughts I could read and the looks I could see, they definitely weren't noticing me in a good way. It seemed like every girl was wearing something black and tight and shiny and looked as if they just took black tape and wrapped it around their body. And here I was with my blonde curls and white dress. Oops. And just because I was a little curvier, and a lot less sluttier, I obviously shouldn't have even come here because there's no way any vampire would want me—or so they thought.

I wanted to run back into my car, and I almost turned around multiple times while driving over to Fangtasia. But I had to do meet with Eric; I just had to. I knew I'd be angry with myself later if I didn't take this opportunity.

And besides—I already had a vampire, or used to, anyways. And not just any old vampire, but The Vampire, according to the thoughts of the fangbangers. Um, yes, he might not remember it, but that didn't mean it never happened or it wasn't important. Plus, I didn't come here for some attention or sex—I came here for answers. And I would get those answers, yessiree.

So there I was, standing with my head held high and my outfit much less revealing than everyone else's, when Pam suddenly appeared at my side. "You should not be waiting in line. Come with me," she said, placing a hand on my elbow. She looked like she glided to the entrance, but I couldn't tell if that was because of her vampire grace or because her floor-length sparkly black dress with a high collar and plunging neckline made her seem like she was floating. Either way, she still looked beautiful, as always. Her lips were painted a deep red and her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. It looked the vampire was dressing up as a vampire for Halloween.

"Oh, uh, 'kay," I managed as I tried to keep up with her. Everyone was shooting me looks for being able to cut them, thanks to Pam, who apparently was the bouncer? If I hadn't seen her fighting in the witch war, I would have thought Chow or maybe Eric would have been the bouncer.

Hey, yeah, whatever happened to Chow? He was usually somewhat involved in all of my interactions with Pam. My eyes went straight to the bar as we walked in through the front door—but it was Long Shadow who was serving the cosmos to a group of moms on "book night," and not the slender, tattooed Asian vampire I was used to.

I turned to Pam and asked, "Where's Chow?"

She peered down at me and smirked, "That's the first thing you say when you enter Fangtasia? _Where's Chow?_"

I shot her a look; I was not amused. "Come on, Pam. Where is he? Is everything all right?"

Steering me to the bar, where Long Shadow's fangs had just popped out (um, ick), Pam used her free hand to gesture as she airily said, "Oh, he's fine, but his hand was cut off with a silver sword during the witch war, and a one-handed bartender is pretty useless. So he's waiting for it to grow back."

Oh, poor Chow. We never were besties, but I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"How long is that going to take? Wouldn't the hand just heal or grow back?" I continued, trying to stall going over and talking to Long Shadow.

"That really only works for superficial injuries; re-growing a limb or appendage, especially one that was taken off with silver, will take longer, and be much more painful." She looked down at me and smiled. "I will tell him you asked about him, though. I'm sure he'll love that."

Well, she seemed to be taking Chow's injury fairly well—much better than I was, even though she was his nest-mate/co-worker/friend! I still felt sorry for him though—if re-growing a hand is painful for a vampire, it must be pretty damn painful. But can I just say one thing? Karma.

"Miss Stackhouse," Long Shadow murmured as he slid my promised gin and tonic towards me. Hah, I'm awesome. I snuck a glance at Pam and she was watching me. I took a sip and gave a thumbs up.

"Hello, Long Shadow. Nice to see you again, although I wish it could be under better circumstances," I said politely.

"Any time I can see you is a better circumstance," he replied, licking his lips. Ugh. I smiled weakly and looked to Pam for guidance.

"Long Shadow, charming as always. Now, the two blood bags at the other end of the bar have been waving twenties in your direction since before we approached the bar, so go attend to their thirst instead of your dick. Chop chop."

After a tense moment, Long Shadow bowed his head in my direction and slowly walked to the so-called "blood bags." Pam crossed her arms triumphantly as she said, "There, much better," and guided me away from the bar.

"So if Long Shadow's now the bartender, who's managing Eric's other businesses? That's what Long Shadow was doing before, right?" I asked as we were walking—where to, I didn't know, but I trusted Pam, as crazy as that sounded. After all, she knew more about Fangtasia (and Eric) than I did.

"Is this a defense mechanism, worrying about everyone else but Eric?" she replied, arching an eyebrow.

_Yes._ "No."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself, my friend. Maybe if you repeat it enough, then it will be true. But for now, I must go back to my duties. I hope everything goes well with Eric. He's in a business meeting right now, but he will find you when he's ready." And then she turned around and disappeared in the throng of people that were hovering near the bar and on the dance floor.

Whaaa? "Pam! PAM!" I shouted over the loud club music, and even though I knew she'd be able to hear me with her vampire hearing, she didn't turn around, didn't falter in her step. And then her blonde head was gone and I was all alone.

Well, hell. Now what? There was no way I was going back to the bar, with creepy Long Shadow. I didn't want to encourage him—or even be near him. So that didn't leave me with very many options. I could stand by a table, or dance on the dance floor, but I didn't have anyone to talk or dance with. From what I could hear, I was attracting a lot of attention by standing listlessly in the middle of the club all by myself. And as almost everyone in the club was thinking, I looked—as I felt—like a complete idiot.

Where was Eric? He wasn't in his chair. He wasn't in a booth. He wasn't near the bar or the dance floor. He wasn't anywhere.

Throwing up my shields, I ducked into the first empty booth I could find, and I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the walls of the booth as soon as I was in. _Aaaah_. I set my purse—red, it matched my dress and my kitten heels—on the table and relaxed. The booth was doing a great job of blocking me off from the wandering eyes of the people in the club.

Or so I thought, until I heard someone slip in the booth—wearing leather, from the sounds of the squeaking. ERIC? I popped my eyes open and saw … not Eric. A man, and a vampire man at that, but he was not Eric. He was smaller and scrawnier, with a hooked nose and black hair pulled back into a pony tail. He was wearing a red leather jumpsuit. I'm not even kidding.

"Don't you look good enough to eat," he murmured once he saw he had my attention. He was smiling, with his lips closed but his fangs peeking out from underneath. Eew.

"Oh come on, I'm sure you've had enough time to work on your pick up lines, is that really the best you can do?" I had no idea what to say or how to react, so I took a page out of Pam's bad-ass book instead. I took a sip of my drink as I watched him try to control his emotions on his face.

"I've had more beautiful woman fall for less," he finally came up with.

"What, like 'pleased to bite you?'" I snorted. Hah. Pleased to bite you.

He didn't seem to think it—or me—was so funny. He slammed his hands on the table and leaned closer to me, snarling. Uh-oh. NOT GOOD.

"Why don't you come with me?" he said in a scarily low voice as he tried to glamor me. Shit, what was I supposed to do? All the other vampires seemed to make a big deal out of me being un-glamourable. What would this guy do? A lot more than look amused like Pam or astonished like Eric—the second Eric.

His gaze was boring into me now. FUCK!

Then all of a sudden he stopped the glamour and looked up; startled, I followed his gaze. Just like him, I was shocked speechless by what was there. Eric was leaning over us, his hands planted firmly on the table and his hair dangling over his bare shoulders—he was wearing just a plain black period vest, and no shirt underneath. No. Shirt. Underneath.

I could see the tight, hard chest I was so used to snuggling with. And the muscles in his arms and shoulders showed themselves as he balanced his weight on the table to lean forward. And I could just barely see the top of his jeans, but that didn't mean I couldn't see the slight trail of blonde hair that went down, down, down.

Okay, so I gaped. A lot. As upset as I was with him, Eric still had the ability to render me speechless—and he wasn't even looking at me, he was glaring at the vampire. "She's not going anywhere, but you are," he murmured. The other vampire, looking chastened, quickly slid out of the booth and disappeared without saying anything. Good.

I thought Eric might take his seat, but he didn't. He was staring at the table, not meeting my questioning gaze. Was there something I couldn't see, or was this like some kind of vampire intimidation tactic? Either way it was pretty rude.

Then, right when I was about to say something, he turned and looked at me. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and everything felt a tiny bit better because of that. I totally wanted to say something snappy and memorable that would impress him and make me look like more than the whimpering Sookie he met, but I was too busy reacquainting myself with the lines of his jaw, the high altitude of his cheekbones, the slight glow from his pale skin. He looked sharper, clearer than I remembered—like I was looking at a HD photo instead of the faded Polaroid that my memory kept of Eric.

His gaze was more guarded, more cautious than I recalled. But his eyes? They looked just as blue as they always were.

He was memorizing me just as I was memorizing him, staring at me like that would help him gain his memories. After some amount of time—I couldn't tell how long, unless you wanted it measured in the number of blinks Eric took, which was an expected zero blinks—he murmured, "Come. We have much to talk about," and started walking away from the booth.

Guess he meant for me to follow him. Hmmmph. Well, I took my time getting my purse and collecting my drink—even taking care to bring the cocktail napkin with me. Yeah, 'cause that'll show him.

Even though I dawdled, it was easy to follow Eric. He was taller than anyone else in the club—that and the rippling effect that he brought about when everyone's heads turned as he walked by them. As peeved as I was about having to follow him like a puppy, I still allowed myself to watch his ass move in the fucktight jeans he was wearing. Mmmm. Not my most feminist moment, but if following Eric—and his ass—meant I'd be able to interrogate him, I was okay with that.

I managed to catch up with Eric, as he had suddenly stopped walking. As I came closer, I understood why. A fangbanger with mousy hair and orangey-red painted lips had literally thrown herself on Eric, wrapping her legs around him like a starving monkey. She was even rocking back and forth against his stationary hips in an effort to dry-hump him. It was so … desperate, so skeevy. I hated her.

Thankfully, Eric just untangled himself from her and dropped her on the ground. I winced upon hearing the thud, but if you throw yourself at a man, you better be prepared to maybe miss and fall. Just sayin'.

Once he was free, he looked over his shoulder at me, to gauge my reaction maybe or something. I don't know. But what I do know is the fangbanger followed his gaze to me, and she didn't like what he was looking at. Oh boy, she did not. She was thinking that there was nothing I had that she didn't have … except extra pounds. According to her thoughts, I must have offered to do something really kinky for Eric to pay attention to me instead of her. Like … oh, I'm not even going to go there, that's how bad it was. I didn't even know you could do that stuff, or how you'd even do it.

"Her? Fucking white trash bitch doesn't even have fang marks," she whined as she picked herself up from the ground. She shook her hair back, displaying hers. Yeah, like showing off another man's love marks will _totally _make another man want to be with you.

No one talked or moved. Not even Eric. He was still looking at me with that unreadable expression, and the only thing I could tell was that he was waiting to see what I would do. Well, Eric dashing across the room to defend my honor and tackle Amanda, he was not.

"Just because I don't have any fang marks on me doesn't mean that I can't be in the presence of a vampire," I retorted, proud of myself for not adding that when Eric bit me, he bit me in places one couldn't see. But she didn't need to know that—and neither did he or anyone else in the club.

"I would be honored to have any vampire sample me," she said proudly, taking a step towards me.

"Yeah, I think everyone can see that. Would you be honored to have any vampire kill you, too?"

Everyone tensed—the fangbanger, the other fangbangers, and _especially_ the vampires. Oops. Eyes narrowed and fangs came down and my heart beat faster. Eric glared menacingly at everyone, daring them to comment. No one did, not even the fangbanger. Then he took the three steps back to me, roughly grabbed my hand, and started walking, his long strides making me have to take two steps for every one of his. He let go of me as soon as we exited the club and started walking in the back-area. He didn't look back once.

When we finally arrived in front of his office door, he opened it and stepped inside, holding the door open for me. He watched me walk in the room and shut the door as soon as I stepped inside. He wordlessly gestured to the seat across from his desk and strolled to sit in his leather computer chair. Once he was settled, leaning back so his long legs were stretched across the desk and his hands were folded across his chest. He watched me daintily place my purse on the floor and sit down in the chair.

"It seems like you'll do anything to get my attention," he said at last, once he was done inspecting me. He smirked triumphantly upon seeing my outraged expression.

"Well, according to Pam, it seems like you would do anything to try and remember what happened when you had amnesia," I said automatically, sounding calm but seething inside. _How dare he!_ How dare he make that the first thing he's said to me the first time we properly talk!

I wouldn't stand for that, no sir. So I had said the most wounding thing I could think of—and judging by the spasm of outrage that ran across his face for a hot second, it worked.

"Which is why I asked you to come here tonight," he said tersely, bringing his legs down and sitting normally in his chair. He leaned closer to me, hunching his shoulders slightly.

I briefly wondered if he was trying to distract me, showing all that skin and neck and clavicle. Well, too bad for him. I was too focused on what he had to say than what he was or was not wearing … and I was pretty damn proud of that. "Technically, Pam asked me to come here tonight," I replied, arching an eyebrow. Yeah. That's right.

He stood up, moving his chair back a little with the abruptness of his action. He walked over to me, and I had no idea why. The sounds of his boots making contact with the floor were the only sounds in the room. Eric stopped to lean back on his desk, stretching his long legs in front of him, right by mine.

"Is this your bravery or your foolishness that is causing you to talk like this to a vampire?" he said pensively, out of the blue.

Hmm. Good question. A little random, but still good. _Eric thought I had bravery _… _never mind that he also thought I had foolishness_. "What do you think?" I asked defiantly, crossing my arms.

He flatly replied, "I don't think I know you enough to have an opinion."

Know me enough? KNOW ME ENOUGH? Oh, he was doing a good job of ruffling my feathers. Yes, he was. But I went over what he said in his head and it wasn't until the third time I repeated his sentence that I figured something out.

He said "enough." _Enough. "I don't know you enough_." That means he knows me, a little. Somewhat. More than he first did, yesterday. This was good—really good. This was a starting point that I liked more than "It seems you'll do anything to get my attention." Pfft, I was still reeling from that one.

"Really? All the interrogations and timelines and video tape-watching you did about me? The dropping off of the check, visiting my house and maybe checking up on me? That's not enough?" I replied. A little sarcastically, it is true.

"You never thanked me for the check." He didn't deny checking up on me. _He didn't deny checking up on me_.

"Thank you."

He nodded, or rather, dipped his chin an inch. Hmm, so he was quick to bash me for not saying thank you, but he wouldn't say you're welcome? Hypocrite.

We sat in silence. I shifted my weight, crossing my legs and folding my hands in my lap. He stayed motionless.

"So, you may not have personally asked me to come, but you did set this up. What did you want me here for?" I finally asked.

"What do you think?" Hah. Funny. "I told Pam to make this perfectly clear. I want you to answer the things she couldn't," he answered, a little disdainfully. His voice sounded harder than it had when he was an amnesiac, if that makes any sense.

I smiled my most wholesome smile, the one I wore when I greeted my priest at church. "Yeah, I know. I just wanted to hear you say it." Immature? Yes. Totally worth it though.

Eric shocked both of us when he grinned—only for a few seconds, but it was still there. That gave me hope; it kind of looked like the grin the old Eric would wear when he was surprised by something.

"What?" I said defensively, putting a dent in my too-cool-for-school armor. I was showing weakness, but that smile threw me off. That damned smile.

He tilted his head back, all power and control. A body language specialist would have a field day with his power stance. Looking down at me from hooded eyes, he replied, "I find you're very good at surprising me."

"You're very good at surprising me too," I blurted without even thinking.

He coolly raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"So … now that we've established that we're good at surprising each other …" I said, trailing off. _Feel free to start talking_.

"You've had my blood," he said seriously, randomly. He leaned forward a little closer to me, his blonde hair forming a protective curtain around his gorgeous face.

"Yeah, 'cause you gave it to me," I replied flippantly. Damn it—where's that brain-to-mouth filter? I was doing so good before, saying the right things at the right times. Now I sounded like a bratty teenager, when I really wanted to sound like a sophisticated, unperturbed grown up.

"Why?" I had his full attention now, and I was going to take advantage of that.

"I already told Pam. Something tells me you already know why. Am I right?"

He ignored the question. "Describe the circumstances."

"You. Me. Naked. In my bed. I sucked, you came." Good Lord, I was crass. But I didn't want to give him the whole picture, because he'd probably desecrate it and write it off. And so if I had to talk like a football player in a locker room to preserve that special, meaningful moment, then so be it. That plan made sense, damnit!

"It was when we fucked?" he asked simply.

"Eric! It was more than fucking," I cried out, not caring about disguising the hurt and shock in my voice.

"It must have been, if I gave you my blood."

He smirked and I wanted to smack him. I was pissed. I could take him making snarky comments about me, but I'll be damned if he starts making fun of our … old relationship, for lack of better term. I immediately stood up and started towards the door, but it seemed like as soon as I turned Eric was leaning back against the door, blocking me from leaving. He raised an eyebrow, daring me.

I looked up fiercely at him. I couldn't tell if I wanted to slap him or kiss him. There was something about feeling so small, but so powerful, when standing next to him. I settled on being pissed off, which was easy because I didn't have to do any pretending.

I took a big step forward, so I was almost right underneath his nose. "And it wasn't just when we _made love_. Don't you dare turn it into a 'tab a goes into slot b' thing, because that's not what we had!" Oh boy, now I was shaking my finger at him. I meant business. Amnesia Eric would never talk like this, be this mean. And he'd never gotten me this rattled, either.

Eric didn't say anything, just tilted his head curiously, his eyes boring into mine. After a looooooong moment he quietly clarified, "I meant, why I felt the need to give you my blood then. At that moment."

"Oh." _You could have just said that_. "Because you liked me. We said we had feelings for each other."

"I wanted to keep you alive," he said flatly. Without any feeling.

"_Because you liked me_. Can't demean that even more by saying you give blood to human—human girls—all the time, now can you? Not according to Pam, or how you acted with that fangbanger out there. Otherwise, you wouldn't be making a big deal out of this," I shot back. Take THAT.

"So then you should understand why I am, as you say, 'making a big deal out of this.' I don't give out blood, only once in a thousand years. And then all of a sudden I wake up from amnesia—which is troubling enough, for anyone—and find myself being able to tell what this complete stranger is feeling. That is a 'big deal,' I should think."

Damnit. He had a point—a good one too. And what's more, he knew it.

"If I'm going to look at this situation through your shoes, then you better look at it through mine, buddy. Because—"

"Buddy?" he said, trying not to laugh. "Buddy?"

I shot him a look. "Don't interrupt me, _buddy_. Surely you remember some manners that you must have picked up in, oh I don't know, a thousand years? Yeah. Now would be a good time to dust them off and use them. _Buddy_."

Looking so amused it was infuriating me, Eric motioned for me to continue with his hands. Ass.

I took a deep breath. "So, as I was trying to say, you have to know by now, thanks to Pam, that you were my first everything. First sex—first _everything_ sexual, too—first vampire, first close friend, first roommate, first … feelings." If we didn't say our "I love yous" before, there was no way in hell I was saying it to someone who I knew wouldn't love me back, or even remember his feelings for me.

I continued, "And then, all of a sudden—nothing. No one. Vamoose. All gone. Goodbye, vampire lover. Goodbye, having someone to talk to, to live with, to laugh with. Hello distant, hurtful vampire. Hello, having to ask people to be my friends."

I didn't care if that sounded desperate or pathetic. I was past that. Besides, I wanted Eric to see what he was doing to me. I didn't care if he cared about what he was doing, as long as he noticed it.

"You were a virgin when I met you." Eric stated. I nodded. He smiled faintly, looking at the wall. "Even when I am not myself, I still have a way with women."

Oh HELL NO. "You know what? I think you were yourself—I think you were a more primitive form of yourself, maybe what you were like as a human. You just reverted back to that because it's who you are underneath all of that big protective vampire covering you've made over the years. You're like an M&M. Yeah. A big, crusty, thousand-year-old vampire-flavored M&M."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know, an M&M? The candy? Hard candy shell, soft chocolate inside?"

After a beat, he asked, "Did you just liken me to a human food?"

I met his gaze defiantly. "Yeah. And? I don't hear you denying it."

That shut him up. For a while, anyways. Then he said, a little strongly, "I have never had a human talk to me like that before."

"It shows." _Pompous ass._

"I could kill you, for speaking to me like that. Vampires have killed humans for saying less." He moved his face moved closer to mine, into that spot where you'd normally pull back if it was a stranger or an acquaintance who was invading your personal bubble.

"Go for it. Here, I'll even make it easier for you," I said, tilting my head to show off my neck. "Go ahead, slurp away. Mi blood es tu blood. But just a heads up, if you do kill me, then there won't be a single person on this planet, alive or dead, who knows what happened when you stayed at my house; I don't even have a diary that you could read. I die, that information dies with me. Just some food for thought."

His eyes were flaming as I stared defiantly in them. I was calling his bluff, and we both knew it, except he didn't seem to like it as much as I did.

After the longest staring contest of my life (the vampire won, of course), he changed the topic and said, "Pam says that you are a telepath, capable of reading the minds of humans, and occasionally me."

What the heck? "I only 'read' you once. And before you get any ideas, I'm not so good with shifters or Weres either. But yeah, I'm a telepath. So?"

He stared at me thoughtfully. "I had a psychic once." I looked at him hopefully; was that me? Was he remembering me? "Before you," he added hastily, carefully. Oh. At least he was acknowledging having me, surely that was a start. "It was incredible." He looked thoughtfully at the wall.

"Did the psychic think so?" My voice was tarter than I'd meant it to be. But I was still cursing myself for being so easily fooled into thinking he'd remember me.

Eric laughed. "For a while," he answered ambiguously. Then he became serious again. "What was I thinking, when you read my mind? Pam didn't know what it was; just that it was 'sick.'"

I waited. Should I tell him? Yes. Did I want to? No. But maybe if I told him, it would help jog his memory or something. I relished having the upper hand in this conversation, even if it would be the first and last time.

For his part, Eric was doing a pretty good job looking unruffled by my silence. He stared at me unblinkingly, not looking away like most people do once they're caught staring. But oh no, not Eric.

I counted to sixty in my head. And let me tell ya, sixty seconds is a damn long time to be quiet in the middle of a conversation. I'd say try it some time, but it's so awkward I wouldn't recommend it to anyone.

I said, "It was the first time I read you, and it was the first time we met Pam and Chow—this occurred the second night with you."

"Yes, I know. Pam was telling Chow that they should try and get themselves invited into my house so they could kidnap you and go back to Fangtasia and torture you for information. Go on."

"Wait, that's what they were talking about?" I gasped, backing up away from him. That made sense. No wonder Eric felt so protective of me at that moment. Although Lord knows he probably wouldn't feel the same way now.

He nodded. I waited some more just to make him stew. Then, picking up like I had just finished my thought, I added, "You were thinking that if they tried anything on me, you would kill them. No, wait, you'd torture them by ripping their fangs out and tearing off their limbs, and then you'd get me to burn them with silver and then dump them in the sun."

"I thought that—about Pam? And about Chow?" he asked incredulously, both eyebrows raised as high as vampirely possible.

"Yeah. And you bit a beer bottle for me to save my life," I said conversationally. Eric stared at me, looking very confused. Well, I didn't blame him for that one; it felt WTF-worthy even as I said it.

"Yes, Pam said that. Why did I do that?"

"I was choking. I needed to drink something. You rushed downstairs and bit off the top of a beer bottle so I could have something to drink." _Can't you see? You wanted to save my life there too. Can't you see that you double-cared about me? Before we even had sex and exchanged blood?_

Eric didn't say anything, just shook his head distantly.

"So I've noticed you keep asking me questions that Pam already told you the answers to," I remarked casually, to fill the silence.

Bad idea. He didn't like that so much. His nostrils flared and he put his big hands on my shoulders and gripped them a little. He was staring down at me, his eyes fiery and full of heat.

And then he smirked, ducking his head towards mine. His face was as close as it was when we had laid in bed together … doing things. I blushed at the memory. I so should not be thinking of that right now. He murmured, "Would you like me to ask the questions that Pam can't answer?"

"Yeah, but there's no guarantee that I'll answer them," I retorted, just to see what he would do.

"You will answer them, Sookie." Despite everything that was happening, what with the vampire gripping my shoulders and all, I still noticed that that was the first time he had referred to me by name this whole night. My heart beat sped up, and I felt myself growing warm. Good to know I have my priorities straight.

He tilted his head, and I could tell he was looking at me closely. More closely than you'd look at the average person. Was he going to kiss me? It looked like he was. Was he getting as hot and bothered as I was by this—even though it was crazy that I was, now? The sexual tension that had been simmering on the back burner for the length of this entire conversation was boiling now.

I was suddenly hyper-aware of the scent that still lingered on my pillows, and how it smelled fresher now, here. I was aware of the slight curl in Eric's lips, the tiny, almost invisible stitching on his vest. How if he shook his head his hair would surely caress my cheek. How if he ducked his head or I raised mine …

I adjusted the angle of my face. If he decided to go for it, I would too, despite everything that just happened. I missed Eric's kisses almost as much as I missed the Eric who gave them to me.

I could have sworn he moved his head fractionally. _Yes_. And then he pulled back abruptly. I was reminded me of how quickly he let go of me when he woke up—because he had just realized he could feel my emotions. Was that why he let go of me now—because he could feel I was a little turned on? Oh my god. I closed my eyes in embarrassment.

Once I opened my eyes, he wasn't in front of me like he had been before I closed them. He wasn't even in my line of vision. I looked around. He was back to sitting behind his desk; he must have used the time where I was cursing myself to zip back to his chair.

"What?" I asked. I turned to face him but didn't move to sit back down in my seat. I crossed my arms as I waited.

"It feels familiar, too familiar—touching you, holding you," he said after a long moment. _You mean being close enough to kiss me? Tomato, Tomahto._

What was I supposed to say to that? "Come, Viking, ravish me all night long and you might get your memories back?" Hah. Now _that's _a pick-up line. I settled with, "Um, if you're expecting me to apologize, don't hold your breath." Mature, Sookie. Real mature.

He chuckled softly at my lame joke. Huh. That was kind of him. Then again, this is the guy who named his bar "Fangtasia."

"Why did you pick me up that night?" Eric asked, getting back to business. He didn't clarify which night he was talking about, and he didn't need to.

"I'm sure Pam told you it was because I recognized you from my friend's memory—Dawn Green's memory of you two. I thought you were going to ask me questions Pam couldn't answer," I replied. Yep, I was immaturely reverting back to sauciness and sarcasm. Bite me.

"So you recognized me as the powerful vampire from Fangtasia and thought you'd get something out of picking me up, did you?" he muttered darkly, leaning back in his chair. He raised an eyebrow challengingly.

Oh no. Oh no he didn't. He did _not_ just go there. I thought I was doing relatively okay he accused me of that. I couldn't handle him thinking of me in that way. I exploded. I fucking exploded on his ass.

"Are you fucking kidding right now? How can you even think I wanted you for your money or your status? Tell me, what the fuck have I done to make you think I'm that kind of person? For Christ's sake, I picked you up on the side of the road in the middle of the night when you were only wearing a pair of dirty jeans and a confused look on your face because you didn't fucking know who you were—and I didn't either! I just knew you as a guy that had sex with Dawn! It wasn't until after I met Pam that I knew you were powerful and owned Fangtasia and other businesses. I was with you when you didn't even have a penny to your name … on you, I mean. Hell, I was with you when you didn't even know your name! And now, now that I'm here with you and you're back to being the sheriff of Area Four—"

"Area Five."

OH MY GOD. OH MY FUCKING GOD. "Just shut up, will you? Just shut the fuck up and let me finish, you asshole! Now that I'm with the Eric who thinks he's hot shit just 'cause he sleeps with a lot of shallow women and he owns a fuckload of fancy-smanchy businesses that give him enough money than he can drop a personal check for fifty thousand, I can't stand you! What do you have to say to that? Huh? Fuck you, Eric. You know what? I don't even care if you twist that into some ridiculous sexual statement. Just fuck you. FUCK YOU!" I screamed as hot, angry tears ran down my face. I was never a big crier, but I was learning that Eric was making me one.

I stomped over to the door, half-expecting Eric to whizz over and stop me, but he didn't. I turned around and he was just sitting there at his desk, just looking at me. I threw him my best withering look and flounced out the door, slamming it shut as soon as I was done. I tried walking back to the club, but with the tears blinding my eyes and the anger that only seemed to intensify now that I was out of the room, I must have missed a turn or something. Shit. Serves me right for being too preoccupied with Eric's ass on the way here.

I paced the hallways, looking for a familiar sight. If I wasn't already crying, I'd be crying right now. I felt so helpless, so childish.

And then of course now would be the time for Eric to randomly appear at the end of the hall and swagger towards me, hair blowing back in some nonexistent breeze that made him look like he was in a shampoo commercial. Damnit, I hated him so much right now. And his stupid hair.

"I got lost. Where's the exit, please?" I asked quickly, before he could say anything. I sounded more rational than the last time I talked to him, and I felt so proud of that. Except I still felt like a silly little child.

I prepared myself for a whole slew of smart-ass comments and raised eyebrows, but Eric took one look at me and quietly murmured, "You're better off using the back door. Go to the end of the hall, take a left, and there's an 'exit sign over the door that leads out of the building."

"Thank you," I said, sniffing and wiping my tears before I ran, shamelessly ran, down the hallway. I didn't say goodbye, and I didn't look back at him. The door was right where he said it was, thank God. If he had been duping me, I probably would have grabbed a knife from the kitchen (if there was a kitchen in Fangtasia? Damn, I can't even dream without over-analyzing something) and staked him.

I made my way over to my car, pretending to fix my hair as I ducked my head down and threw up my shields. If I had to hear what one jealous fangbanger thought of me and my tears, I wouldn't be able to take it right now. I'd crack.

I did a double-take when I saw Eric leaning against the trunk of my car, his arms crossed smugly. How did he know that was mine, anyways? Maybe he did do a little investigating during his night-trip to my house.

"We're not done, you and I," he murmured once I came close enough to the car and stopped. I couldn't tell if he meant for the night, or in general. Either way, I felt chills, and I don't think they could be blamed entirely on the chilly night. I hated that I felt so attracted to this Eric when he was giving me so many reasons not to be.

"Oh, yes we are. I'm tired and angry and I want to go home," I snapped. "If you have any more questions, just write them down on a piece of paper or something and then we'll talk. But if you're just going to sit around and hurl unmerited accusations at me, then no dice. Have a nice night."

I walked towards the car door again, wondering if Eric would try and stop me. He didn't, he didn't even move. Hah, good to know he was paying attention to what I said. Now I could just get in my car and go home and—what the? In my haste I didn't even notice I didn't bring my purse with me. The purse with my car keys in it. The purse that I left in Eric's office.

_Motherfucker!_

I turned back on my heel, already prepared with the excuse of having to say goodbye to Pam and then sneaking into his office to retrieve my purse. But that all stopped once I noticed Eric was dangling the strap of my purse on one of his fingers. I didn't need to see his face to know that he was smirking at me. He didn't say anything like I thought he would, though. But that fucking smirk said it all …

"You know, you could have just given it to me when I asked you for directions. You didn't have to be an ass and hold onto it for so long," I retorted.

He shrugged. "I didn't notice you forgot your bag until I saw you in the hall."

"Well … thank you," I mumbled.

He didn't reply, and he didn't do anything when I hesitantly took the purse and walked back to unlock my car. He didn't move when I got in the car either. Didn't even turn around when I started the car up. Couldn't he, like, smell how badly I wanted to leave? I mean, come on!

I rolled down the window and threatened, "Unless you're willing to help me get rid of some of my anger and let me run you over a couple times with my car, I suggest you get the hell out of my way." Even though he had remembered my purse when I hadn't, I was still upset with him, with myself, with this night that had its good parts and its bad. I just wanted to go home and get away from it all and deal with this later. And I wanted chocolate.

Although I didn't want to, I looked back in the rearview mirror to see if he moved. He had. He was now standing in front of the car next to mine.

I pulled out of my space, dimly registering the sight of Pam walking over to where Eric was standing when I signaled to exit the parking lot. She just stood next to him, and they both watched me drive off into the night.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

**A/N: Eh?**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Uhhhhh … hi everyone. Remember me, afalcone10? Remember Dead To My World? Yeah. Hi. **

**Soooooo I fully acknowledge that I was update fail. I don't like to whine, but I had a lot of end-of-senior-year-of-high-school stuff to deal with, and work's been pretty heavy, so the few amounts of time I had to write I was just too pooped out to come up with some good stuff. But now I should be able to get back to my one-update-a-week schedule, and once I get out of school in two weeks it should really pick up! So I'm sorry about the wait. Hopefully this will kind of make up for it!**

**Thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty, who thinks this is her favorite DTMW chapter yet. Hopefully you guys will think so too! I did go over and add a few bits after she beta-ed this, so any mistakes are mine!**

**And I'd like to give a shout-out to TMSescritura for picking up on the chocolate references waaaaaay back in chapter 19. In it, Sookie called Eric a vampire M&M—hard on the outside, soft on the inside—and later, when she's feeling like crap in the parking lot, she says she wants chocolate. *pats TMSescritura on the back and gives a M&M* Sorry, unfortunately I don't have any vampire M&Ms! **

**And just a recap of the last chapter (although I think it flows better if you go back and read it, 'cause that's what I did), Sookie went to Fangtasia to officially meet with Eric, and everything soured once he implied that she only picked him up from the side of the road because she knew she'd get a hefty reward, and our girl Sooks did NOT like that. She cusses him out, runs out of Fangtasia while blinking back tears, and threatens to run Eric over with her car when she sees him standing by it. She doesn't, but the last thing she does before leaving Fangtasia is Pam walking next to Eric, and both vampires watch her pull out. **

**Alrighty then!**

**...........**

You know how sometimes you can go to bed really angry and pissed off and then wake up the next morning and feel a lot better? That didn't happen to me the morning after my visit to Fangtasia.

And you know how sometimes you can get really angry and then take a shower and once you're all done, you feel a lot better? That didn't happen to me either.

My mood didn't get any better when the doorbell rang after I finished my shower. I threw on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt and towel-dried my hair while walking to the front door, hurriedly stuffing the towel in the hall closet before I opened the door.

I knew that since it was daylight, Eric or Pam wouldn't be waiting on my front step, but I have to admit that I thought it would be Eric's day man, maybe with flowers or even a handwritten note from Eric apologizing for last night.

Nope. Surprisingly enough, it was Sam and he was balancing a tray with two cups of coffee and a basket with a blue cloth napkin covering the top of it, so I couldn't see what was inside.

Hmmph. He _would_ choose right now to try and make amends with me, when I was already feeling annoyed. Fuck my life.

"Is now a good time to talk?" he asked nervously, taking in my straight line of a mouth, my arms crossed across my chest, my disheveled condition. _Gee, w__hat do you think?_

I wordlessly opened the door so he could step in, and I closed it just as silently.

I turned around to see Sam hopelessly struggling with the items in his arms, hoisting the basket up further on his arm so it wouldn't slip while trying to hold the coffees in their place. I felt myself soften a little at the sight, even though I kind of didn't want to.

"Oh, let me help you with something," I said, reaching for the coffees. Sam threw me a thankful glance and then he followed me into the kitchen. I placed the tray on the table, and Sam put the basket next to the coffee and sat down on a chair.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked after I took a sip from the cup Sam just handed me. Smart boy, bringing coffee to our morning truce signing. I could tell he went to the Babycakes Bakery two towns over, judging by the taste of the coffee and the delicious aroma peeking out from underneath the napkin covering the basket. He knew that was my favorite breakfast place.

"Uh, as you've probably noticed, I kind of brought a reconciliatory breakfast," Sam said nervously, running a hand through his hair. He lifted up the napkin and I could see croissants and danishes and pastries and muffins and doughnuts. They looked sooooo good.

I nodded. With his fingers playing with the napkin, he looked up and started earnestly speaking, almost too quickly. He fixed his blue eyes on me as he explained, "I'm so sorry Sookie, I really am. I felt like such a shit after I said that. You didn't deserve it, and it was the wrong thing to think, on top of being the wrong thing to day. It's none of my business what you did with him … as hard as it is for me to realize that." He swallowed, and I nodded my head. _Go on_. _Keep talking._

"It's just that you were so … crumpled and, well, so non-Sookie-like that night. And I spent the whole time wondering what happened and trying to work up the courage to ask and then once you told me what happened, what he did, I just … I couldn't handle it. But, shit, Sookie, you were right, you _were_ going through hell that night, and I just made it that much worse, like the _idiot_ that I am. God, I just … I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I could go back and punch me in the nose before I said that. I really do."

Once he finished, Sam looked up at me with big, blue puppy dog eyes; I don't think he knew what he was doing, but he didn't need to bring out the big guns. The fact that he came over here—with coffee and breakfast, too—to be the adult and make the first move and apologize was enough for me. Plus, everything he said was right on target, and exactly what I would have expected in an apology from him.

"And you're sure that time-traveling abilities aren't a part of the whole shifter deal, right?" I teased, smiling softly to show him I was kidding, and ready to move on from this whole thing.

He grinned, looking very relieved. "Unfortunately, yes. Does this mean you forgive me?"

"Of course I do. Come here," I said, holding out my arms for a hug.

Sam pushed back his chair and came over to hug me. "I'm so, so sorry Sookie," he whispered in my ear before he let go.

I smiled and gently replied, "I know you are. And I am too. I shouldn't have slapped you, and I shouldn't have told you everything while expecting that you wouldn't have an opinion."

"But we're good now, right?" he said, pulling back a little to look at me.

I hugged him again. "We're good now."

And then I found out that Sam and I were more than good. We were great. I told him everything that had happened with Eric since he got his memories back, and he managed to swallow all his misgivings about what I should or should not have done—something I squelched after telling him it was kind of stupid for him to tell me what I should have done after I already did it—so he could commiserate with me and listen to me talk. And okay, so he did have to run to the bathroom and get tissues after I started crying when telling him about how Eric assumed I picked him up to earn a reward.

"Listen, Sookie," Sam said hesitantly once I finally was able to stop sniffling. "I know that when Eric first got his memories back, you wanted to work a lot so you wouldn't have to think about him. And I know that that ended when I said what I said to you in the car, but why don't you come back to Merlotte's and start working again? Or if it's too soon, that's fine. I'm just trying to think of ways I can help you."

I dabbed at my eyes one last time. "Then you can stop. I'd love to start working again and put all of this behind me."

"I know what you mean. Make everything go back to normal again."

I nodded, even though I knew there was no way that was going to happen. Eric wasn't the only person whose life was completely rearranged by the curse. Surely he knew that by now?

"When can I start?" I laughed, getting up to throw the crumpled tissues away.

"How about now?"

I smiled. "Now sounds perfect."

................

Four days later, and I still thought working at Merlotte's instead of working on my relationship with Eric was perfect. Sure, my feet were sore at night and my back hurt at the end of a long shift, but that just distracted me from the pain in my heart, the pain that couldn't be relieved with ice or warm showers. And after tonight's long and grueling nine-hour shift, I was definitely feeling sore.

There was a red Corvette parked in the front of my house when I got home, which I found somewhat troubling since I didn't know anyone with a red Corvette. Oh, wait a sec, I do … and he just stood up from where he was sitting on the swing on the front porch.

Eric.

I stopped walking, and he did too. We must have looked odd, him standing on the front step and me in front of his car. He was in fine form as always, in jeans and a gray v-neck see-through shirt underneath an unzipped black leather jacket. I wanted to kick the front bumper of his car—the car Pam said was the great love of his life—because seeing him evoked all sorts of emotional responses in me … and he just stood there looking stoic and unaffected.

I felt irrationally angry remembering his comment about how I took him in just because I knew I'd get something out of it. I wished I had retorted with something about how the only thing I'd thought I'd receive from taking Eric in was my death, because I thought for sure the vampire would kill me. But it was too late for that argument, which only made me angrier at myself that my brain waited until tonight to come up with it, not when I could have used it two days ago.

At the same time, I felt overwhelmingly, embarrassingly excited when I realized that by coming all the way to Bon Temps, to my house, Eric had made the first move to break our little stalemate. He didn't have to come all the way over here; he could have called on the phone. And unlike Sam, he didn't feel the need to come and apologize because of our friendship or our working relationship. Even though Eric didn't come with baked goods and coffee … he didn't need to.

Eric didn't say anything. Huh. So he was willing to make the first move by coming to my house, but he didn't want to be the first to talk. Well, I did.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed, instantly going on the offensive. "Shouldn't you be at Fangtasia, flexing your muscles for all the little fangbangers instead of harassing the one girl who genuinely cares about you so that she breaks down and cries?"

He took a step forward, out of the small drabble of light that was streaming down from my one porch light. I couldn't exactly see his facial features, but I would have bet good money that he raised his eyebrow when he replied, "Oh, no, that's not scheduled to happen until later this evening."

Luckily my brain seemed to be functioning tonight, because I shot back, "So what are you scheduled to do now? Smirk devilishly? Fluff your hair? Ask questions you already have the answers for?"

"They may be questions I already have the answers for, but they're not the answers I want," he said, all sexy and mysterious-like. And I'll be damned, he smirked devilishly and fluffed his hair the whole time he was talking. I had to bite my lip to stop the little itch the right side of my mouth had taken, the same itch that creeps up whenever I start to smile and don't want to.

I had to stop for a minute to think of a suitable response, but then he held up this manila folder I must have missed when I scoped him out earlier. Hey, I got distracted by the leather jacket. And the damn v-neck tee, the one that let me see the lines of muscles I was, ahem, good friends with. And the jeans. Those tight, tight jeans.

"You'll be interested to know that, despite what you think, I did pay attention to our conversation the last time we talked," he said, opening up the folder and rifling through the pages. "Ahh, here it is." He pulled out a piece of notebook paper and waved it around. "I made a list of questions I want to ask you, and I even wrote them down on a piece of paper, like you so thoughtfully suggested."

"Great. Let me see it," I replied, stepping forward and holding out a hand.

He took a step backwards and put the paper back in the folder. "It is too dark out here, I think. Even I am having trouble reading my handwriting in my light," he said, smirking the whole time because of his little joke. "Perhaps we should go inside and discuss."

"I think the porch light is good enough for me, so it should be good enough for you," I said impatiently, still holding my hand out. I was cold and tired, but I was prepared to stay out on my front porch all night if I had to, if it meant not giving in to what Eric wanted.

He took a couple steps closer to me, so I was on level with the "v" of his shirt. Oh, hello soft-looking blond chest hair. Good to see you again. Sorry I didn't say hi sooner, but I didn't notice you there.

Eric interrupted my ogle-fest when he looked down on me with an unhappy face and said, in a clipped voice, "I was being polite, waiting on your porch, talking with you on the front steps." Right. I hadn't uninvited him from my house. He didn't just want to stroll in there, even though he could—and now looked angry enough that he would.

And even though he had just reminded me that I could un-invite him from my house like I had before … I didn't.

"Fine. But I don't have anything to offer you, I threw all your blood away," I retorted, brushing past him and unlocking the door. I was expecting a snarky comment, but Eric was silent as he stepped in after me, closed the door, and watched me take off my coat and my shoes. He didn't take his black boots off, and I didn't ask him too.

"Let's have this interview session at the dining room table, okay?" I said. I hadn't meant to ask him if it was okay, since I was sitting at the dining room table whether he liked it or not, but it just kind of slipped out. I was nervous, and I had been thinking of places we could go where I wouldn't remember Eric being.

Kitchen table—too personal. I'd see Eric sitting in a chair and would remember him sipping a blood as I ate dinner and asking me how my day was. The living room was even worse. The blanket. The couch. The rug in front of the fire place.

He shrugged and nonchalantly replied, "It's your house."

I was glad my back was to him as I led the way to the table, or else he would have seen how my face fell when he mentioned how this was "your house" and not "our house" like he had earlier, during the car ride to Fangtasia that fateful night.

Once I composed my facial features and trusted myself with looking at Eric, I cocked an eyebrow and replied, "Yes. It is my house." _And don't you forget it, mister_.

He got the message, loud and clear. He nodded his head and waited for me to sit down in a chair before he chose the one directly across from me.

Eric set the folder on the table and rested his hands on it lightly for a few moments before he briskly opened it to reveal the aforementioned piece of lined paper, along with a stack of photos of what looked like the interior of Fangtasia.

"I want you to look at these and tell me what transpired when they were taken." I was confused until he slid the papers over. As I leaned closer, I saw they were photo stills from the night I went to Fangtasia: there I was sitting on Eric's lap on his throne … and there he was saying something in my ear and I was closing my eyes, mid-laugh … and there I was interviewing the witches, with Eric beaming down on me with a grin on his face … and there I was sitting with Eric at the bar, looking into his eyes just as pensively as he was looking into mine. We looked so, so happy in every picture. Well, except for the ones that showed Eric attacking Amanda the Were.

After I looked at each photo, I straightened in my chair and looked right at Eric. He was watching me expectantly. "Well?"

"Were these taken from a security camera or something?" I said, asking my own question instead of answering his. He nodded in response, blue eyes never leaving mine. "Why didn't you just bring the tape over?"

He smirked and reached for his breast pocket; somehow I just knew he was going to pull out a DVD before he did. Eric cocked an eyebrow and said, "Which media do you prefer?"

"Oh, let's just watch it," I replied airily, like I wasn't touched by the thought and dedication he put into tonight, or how long it must have taken him to make sure he had everything ready; I wondered if he had patted his breast pockets before leaving to double check that he brought the DVDs, or how many times he had flipped through the photos to ensure that he hadn't forgotten a particularly revealing slide. Yes, Eric had definitely come prepared for this test.

Besides, I remembered how meaningful that Fangtasia night was, and I wanted to be reminded of it again. To hell if it meant seeing Eric not sit in his "seat" on my couch, and me not resting my head on his chest. To hell if it meant seeing Eric as he used to be.

He nodded his head as he pushed back his chair and strode over to the living room. _Fine, be my guest._

I wordlessly trailed after him, and took the DVD from his outstretched hand after he stopped by the television. I tried to make sure everything was all set with the TV, but I was flustered with the knowledge that Eric hadn't moved from his spot, and that he was right behind me, watching me. My fingers clumsily pushed the wrong buttons, and I couldn't think about what setting the TV had to be on to play a DVD when I knew Eric was right behind me, possibly checking me out when I was squatting down on the floor. I felt my cheeks, and then my face, turn hot.

Finally, a blue screen appeared on the television, and I stood up and turned to see Eric focusing on the screen. "Would you like to sit down?" I politely asked, gesturing to the sofa or the chairs. He shook his head and crossed his arms, widening his feet so they were shoulder-width apart. He looked intense. And I knew that his figure would be blocking the TV if I sat on the couch, so I merely took a short step back and stood next to him, elbow to elbow.

As we looked straight ahead at the TV instead of each other, we saw the interior of Fangtasia, and it looked like this security camera was from the corner of the room directly over the front door. The video was in black and white, but you could still make out the blondness of my hair and the cranberry color of my sweater as I walked into the room, taking in the bar while holding hands with Eric. I reflected that the shot could have been almost whited-out and you'd still be able to see the huge smile on my face whenever I looked at him.

"Do you like that sweater?" I asked, wanting to try out a theory of mine.

Eric turned to look at me, with a question on his face. But he did answer me. "Yes. I am partial to it. I like it." He raised an eyebrow, as if to add, _and? So what?_

"You picked it out for me that night. You said you liked it then too," I said simply, watching the corner of his lip pull down before he turned his head away from me.

Neither of us spoke for a while. "Narrate what is happening," Eric finally said, and a little roughly too. He was still watching the Sookie on the screen rather than the Sookie standing inches away from him.

"Looks like someone wore their bossy pants tonight," I muttered. That caused him to glance at me, his swishing hair waving to me out of the corner of my eye. My eyes darted to my left, and I saw a tiny hint of a smile before he turned his attention back to the screen.

Then, in a voice that was louder than a whisper but quieter than a murmur, Eric replied, "I always wear my bossy pants." I whipped my head, almost hitting his shoulder with the hair whiplash, to stare at him. Eric was maybe joking with me?

Yes, yes he was. His lip curled and his face seemed more relaxed, his eyes less hard. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling as I replied, "That doesn't sound practical … or hygienic."

He narrowed his eyes, and I almost think it was in a teasing way. Almost. But then he started watching the TV again, effectively dismissing me. "Narrate instead of commenting on the status of my wardrobe and personal hygiene."

"Please?"

"What?" Eric asked, still watching the television, still pretending I wasn't standing next to him, and still acting like an asshole.

"I said 'please.' You see, you stopped talking, so I thought you might be searching for the right word to say next. That word is 'please,'" I explained matter-of-factly.

Now _that_ got a reaction. Eric turned to face me, all the way, so that the television wasn't even in his peripheral vision. But he didn't say anything the whole time, and didn't even produce the tiniest facial expression that would clue me in to what he was feeling or thinking right now. He was as silent as a mime that just had his wisdom teeth taken out.

The silence droned on. Video-Sookie and Video-Eric moved over to Eric's chair. Video-Eric patted on his lap for Video-Sookie to sit there. Video-Eric was whispering in Video-Sookie's ear and holding her close to him. But Real Life-Eric didn't care about _any_ of that—he was too busy staring at Real-Life Sookie.

"You could even say 'please, Sookie,' if you want," I said after a while, raising an eyebrow challengingly to give it some more oomph.

I glanced at the television. Now I was at the part where I was interviewing Holly—that's how long the silence had been.

And then Eric broke it by smoothly saying, "Oh dearest Sookie, goddess of all things polite, I am prostrate that I committed a grave offense by not uttering a monosyllabic word composed of six letters. I beg you, please narrate what is happening in this silly little video."

By the time I looked at him, he had reverted back to his original position of staring at the television screen. Pfffft.

"I know that you tried to mask the fact that you had to say 'please' to a silly little human like me by hiding behind pretty words, but I also know that you meant it. Anyways, this is when Holly is telling me that the witches blackmailed her into helping them because they threatened her boyfriend's livelihood."

"We missed the beginning," Eric said. He looked pointedly at the remote I was holding.

"Oh, did you see that? Now we're at the part where I tell Holly everything's going to be okay. See? I'm even hugging her. Awwwh," I said, like he hadn't even spoken up.

"Why don't you rewind the video back to the beginning?"

"Oh, look! Now you're hugging me! How precious. I must be a really good hugger or something. Maybe I should ask Holly how good of a hugger I am since I bet she would remember what it was like."

"_Please_ rewind back to the beginning."

"See, now that wasn't so bad, was it?" I teased. Eric didn't think it was funny. I thought it was hilarious.

But I did rewind it all the way back to the beginning. Pam was telling me about Eric's throne; I relayed that to Eric.

"I don't think I need to say what just happened," I said as we both watched Eric sit down and pat his lap for me to sit down on it.

"I think you do," Eric said, as Video-Sookie snuggled up to Video-Eric's chest and Video-Eric smiled while looking down at her. He bent down and lightly kissed the top of her head, so softly she didn't even notice. Wow. I never knew he did that to me. _Don't start crying. Don't start crying, Sookie._

"Fine. Right now you're telling me what Pam and Chow are talking about, how they have the good witches in a back room and are trying to decide what to do with them. Chow wants to glamour them into revealing information. Pam wants me to read their minds."

"Pam's way is better."

I turned to glance at him. "I just said that, in the video. You just told them that we're going with Pam's way." He shrugged and looked back at the screen.

"There. What is that?" he asked, pointing at himself as he kissed me on the cheek for encouragement before I read Lucinda.

"That's you being Amnesiac Eric," I said bluntly.

No reply.

"So you probably know this, but this is where I make sure the witches won't be harmed. And now I start reading the head witch, Lucinda. Pam told you everything about this, right?"

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye, and fast-forwarded to the part where Chow leads Holly out of the room. "Okay then. Moving on. You tell me I was fantastic, and that you were proud of me. Pam makes me a drink. Gin and Tonic. And now we're going to find your office," I said as we walked out of the frame.

I assumed that was the end of the video, so I turned to leave the room. Eric's hand shot out to stop me as I brushed past him. I looked up at him questioningly, and he cocked his head to the television, whose screen was now showing a video with a new camera viewpoint came up, this one from over the doorway of Eric's office.

Oh. I moved back to my spot, and Eric let go of my arm ... not wanting to touch me when it wasn't necessary.

I didn't narrate the parts that showed me and Eric gazing at various parts of the office; the awestruck expressions on both of our faces said it all. Then I left Eric and the room, but the video didn't stop like I thought it would. Instead, it revealed what Eric had been doing in the room after I departed.

I remember that I thought he was too engrossed in looking around his office and that I was intruding, but as soon as I walked out of the door Eric instantly straightened up from his crouch and looked incredulously towards the doorway. He threw everything that he was holding—books, binders, notebooks—onto his desk and used his vampire speed to rush over to the door. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms comfortably. The camera angle only allowed for his side profile to be seen, but it was still obvious that he was smiling a little softly as he watched me walk down the hallway back to the club room.

Then he shook his head and closed the door. Video-Eric went back to flipping through books and searching drawers, but he didn't seem as excited about it, like he had seemed when I was in the room. He kept looking back at the door, like he was expecting, or wanting, someone to open it. After the fifth look, which had occurred while he halfheartedly flipped through a small book—the crossword puzzle book?—he quickly walked out the door, not even bothering to close it as he turned to walk down the same hallway as I had.

Eric and I shared a look. I don't think he wanted me to narrate what we both just saw happen in the video. Which was good, because I was about two blinks away from crying, and I'm sure my voice would have reflected that.

The change in the shot on the screen made us both go back to watching that instead of gazing at each other. It was from the first video camera angle, which showed me sipping my drink at the bar as Eric and the other vampires entered the room. It was almost comical how radically different my posture, facial expression, and body language became once I saw Eric coming to join me rather than hang out with the vampires. Except … it wasn't, now.

I relayed our conversation as best I could, about how Eric was telling me what the vampires were saying. He raised an eyebrow when I told him that he had said that he would rather be with me than Pam and Chow and all the others, and then he raised both of them when I talked about our introduction to Long Shadow.

I didn't talk about how protective and angry Eric looked when the Native American vampire's fangs came down. Eric didn't either. But he did ask about what was said in the conversation with Colonel Flood, since Pam apparently had been too busy socializing to eavesdrop when that happened.

"That doesn't mean anything," Eric automatically replied as soon as I told him that Colonel Flood said he'd never seen Eric happier. "First off, he's a Were. He doesn't know anything. Secondly, I can count the number of times I've met with Colonel Flood on one hand. The number of personal meetings I've had with Colonel Flood would not be represented by a finger in that scenario." He stopped his ranting and turned to give me a serious look. "Do you understand?"

Oh, did I. "Yeah. You don't want to admit the possibility of there being a tiny sliver of truth in that statement, so you're coming up with flimsy excuses to cover it up. I understand."

"No, you obviously don't. I don't associate with Colonel Flood when it isn't absolutely necessary. So how would he know if I'm happy? He doesn't have much to judge it off of. And what does he know about being happy? He's a _Were_."

"So let's call Pam then. She's a _vampire_. Like you. And she's your vampire, or whatever. She knows you the best."

"Now is not the time for silly jokes."

"Which is why I'm being serious. Call Pam and ask her if you seemed happier when you were with me."

"Of course I was. I didn't know anything else. I didn't know what sadness or pain was. I didn't know anything but goodness right from the very beginning, starting with a kind stranger helping me when I was lost and confused. I didn't have to deal with supernatural politics or ass-kiss an entire pack of werewolves like Pam. I didn't have to worry about how to attack the witches. I didn't even have to worry about paying overdue bills," Eric thundered.

"But think about what you _did_ have to worry about. Your identity—who you were, and who you were supposed to be. Your memories—the fresh, scrambled ones that you had for a couple days to replace over a thousand years of memories. Your future that you might not live to see. Your past that you didn't remember. How you didn't know anything unless you were told it—how you didn't know anything about yourself unless you were told it. How you didn't know who you could trust. How you didn't know what was going to happen because you had no say in it. How the only thing you did know was that someone you didn't know was trying to kill you, and anyone associated with you, and you knew you couldn't do a thing about it." I paused. "It's not like a couple days ago you were on vacation relaxing in the spa at a five-star resort in Jamaica, Eric."

He was glaring at me, his blue eyes burning mine with the force of his anger. But I continued, "And don't give me that bull shit about not knowing what sadness or pain was. You didn't fucking know who you were until you were given an identity. Don't you think that's sad? Don't you think it's awful that you were cursed—and that you _knew_ that you were cursed? It's not like you were turned into a cat and you just got to take little naps on a soft pillow all day. You knew something was wrong the minute you found yourself running down a random road for no reason. And then you found out that everything that you spent a thousand years working on had disappeared, literally disappeared, over night, and you had to start from scratch. I think that's sad."

Eric's fangs came down as he fully turned towards me and snarled, "I don't want your pity."

"No. You just want my answers. That's all," I shot back.

I opened my mouth to say something about how he wouldn't even be able to get that, but stopped once I heard, _'I wish that was the only thing I wanted from you.'_

Eric's lips hadn't moved.

And I knew that for a fact because I was so scared of his fangs that I hadn't been able to look anywhere else but his mouth.

Holy shit.

I was reading Eric's mind again. And this time, this time he probably wouldn't be so understanding about it.

Holy shit.

"Yes. That's all," he responded icily. I tried to probe into his mind, but it was just static. Just stupid, silly static.

As I tried to figure out a way to touch Eric that wouldn't be suspicious, so he wouldn't think I was doing that to see if physical contact would let me read his mind again, his eyes darted back to the television. My eyes followed his. In the video, I was reaching for Eric's hand to start guiding him out the front entrance of Fangtasia. As soon as I held his hand there, he dropped his shoulders and the anger etched in his facial features lessened noticeably. Don't get me wrong, he was still pissed then … just not as pissed, I guess.

"What did you say to me, in the car, to calm me down?" Eric asked all of a sudden, his voice sounding softer than it had all night. It was odd, watching the fight retreat in both Real-Life Eric and Video-Eric.

"I told you that though I appreciated you stepping up for me, I was used to fighting my own battles."

"But you are just a human," he said.

I smiled sadly. "That's pretty much what you said in the car, too."

"And that calmed me?"

"Kind of. I think it distracted you more. You didn't like that I was used to being treated badly by humans—because of my telepathy."

"And how did that calm me?" Why did he keep asking that? What was the big deal?

"I said it was nice having someone there to have my back. You said it was worth feeling that angry, if it made me feel that happy." I paused, not knowing how to continue. Because what happened next … if I told Eric that, he definitely wouldn't feel calm after that.

"Don't hold back any necessary information," Eric stated firmly, watching me closely. "I want you to tell me everything. What happened next? What aren't you telling me?"

_Deep breath. You can do this, Sookie._ "When we got home … that was when we had sex for the first time."

"And you had sex for the first, first time," Eric murmured in a husky voice, tilting his head to look at me. "With me."

I gulped before nodding.

A new sexual tension invaded the room. Even though I hadn't gone into details, something had changed now that I told Eric about our romantic liaisons, about how he was my first. I knew he knew all of that already, thanks to Pam the blabbermouth, but saying it out loud to him made things different. The silence was louder, he seemed closer to me, and his shirt looked more see-through, his jeans tighter.

He was staring at me now in the most peculiar way. His eyes were blue and fixed on my own, but there was something new in his gaze that wasn't there before. And then, just as quickly as it came, it left.

"I have more questions. Let's go back to the dining room," Eric said, interrupting whatever it was that just happened. He brushed past me without a second glance back, which was probably a good thing because then he didn't notice the confused and, I'll admit it, hurt look on my face.

"Soooooooo," I said, waiting for him to start firing away. We were back in our old seats.

Eric looked up, eyes blazing. "That first night … why did I hold your hand while you slept?"

Well, he was certainly starting with a bang. And a pretty vulnerable question. I was surprised that, given how I acted with him in the past, he would start with the question that would be easiest for me to give him shit about.

It showed he was real about this. He was being mature, taking this seriously. And he was also being very sneaky, as that question was a loaded one, a social experiment ready to be tested. Would I take the bait?

"Honestly … I don't know. We never talked about it. We were both in my bed, fully clothed, mind you, and I was having trouble sleeping. The last thing I thought of before I went to sleep was that it felt like someone was holding hands with me. But I just thought I was so tired I was imagining things. I didn't think anything of it until Pam asked if you had touched me, and you replied that you held my hand as I slept. I think you did it for comfort, and to comfort me. I was all you knew at that moment, and you didn't want to let me go."

I watched his face the whole time I spoke, watched him transition from carefully guarded to outright shocked. He looked like he would have preferred hearing me bitch him out rather than put it all out on the table like I did.

Silence. And then, I swear to God, Eric took a pen from the breast pocket of his leather jacket and crossed an item off the list. In a more businesslike tone, he said, "You had men's clothing to give me that first night. Whose clothes was I wearing?"

"Oh, those were just some hang-out clothes that Jason leaves at my house," I said automatically. Eric waved his pen for me to elaborate. "Jason is my older brother."

He nodded. "Why did I stay here with you if I knew you had silver weapons?"

"You trusted me," I answered simply. _Do you trust me now, like you did then?_

His mouth became a thin, straight line as he crossed off that question.

"This house has been in your family for generations, yes?" I nodded, surprised. It was all I could do. Where did that come from? And how did he know that?

He continued, "Why, then, would you let one stranger cut it up to make a resting place for another stranger that you just invited to move in with you?"

_Because I knew, even then, you were worth it. _"Because I _thought_ you were worth it," I replied testily, accentuating the "thought" to show him what I really "thought."

The line that crossed off that question was darker, and more scribbly, than the other lines.

"Why did you say you wouldn't eat me anymore, on that first night Pam called?"

I had to think about what he meant with that one. Oh, my dream. "You woke me up from a nightmare I was having about evil grapes that were chasing me."

His nose crinkled a little as he confusedly asked, "Grapes are human food, yes?"

I blushed. "Yeah. It was a silly dream."

He chuckled a little. "It must have been."

I giggled, happy to see his Iceman façade crack. "Well, you thought it was funny then too."

Eric threw more questions at me after that—about my job, my boss, my brother, and really anything that he could think of that related to me. Even though he was doing this in the most impersonal, business-like manner possible—I was still pleased that he was taking the effort to get to know more about me … even if he was motivated to do it more so he could learn more about his amnesiac alter-ego. Whatever the reason and all that, right?

After a long while, when I started yawning while trying to answer questions, Eric said that was enough for the night. He silently gathered his papers as I watched him. And neither of us spoke when I opened the door for him and he stepped on the porch.

He turned around then, as soon as he walked down the stairs. I was still leaning against the door, now waiting for him to speak.

"You didn't cry tonight," he said, a hint of a grin on his face. He just said it matter-of-factly, although he sounded relieved by my lack of tears.

I smiled a little. "You didn't make me."

"There's always the next time, though," he replied nonchalantly, airily. His grin got bigger; mine did too. He sounded, and acted, like he was having an actual conversation with me—not the interrogations or arguments that we had shared in the past. So what if it was about him making me cry?

I shrugged my shoulders. "There always is."

He nodded and started heading towards his car. After the lights of the Corvette disappeared into the night, I didn't go back inside but instead walked over to the swing, the one that Eric and I had always sat on together. Even though tonight we had both sat on it, it wasn't at the same time. And that seemed wrong.

When it got too cold, I went back inside. Eric had left behind the DVD of the security footage. And I probably should review it oh, I don't know, a couple dozen times ... so I'll be better prepared to answer Eric's questions the next time we see each other. Yeah. That's why. That's the only reason why.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hi everyone! I have been SUPER busy, so sorry again for the delay. More end-of-the-year school stuff. I had my last-ever day of high school today, which was all sorts of crazy. **

**And on a somewhat related note, THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed or favorited or alerted or read or even thought about DTMW. You have no idea how excited I get when I see an alert in my inbox ... or even when I go back and look through everything and all of the reviews. And yay for over a thousand reviews! *does stupid happy dance* I didn't have the time to reply to all of them (it was that or use that time to write ... I figured you'd like that better?) but I DID read and smile at all of them. **

**A nice snuggly hug to my beta chiisai-kitty. She says she's a beta slut. I say she's a beta lover. And I love my beta. So there. :)**

**One last thing ... thank you CH.**

.............

After a night full of restless turning, I somehow managed to fall asleep … and then I woke up, what felt like minutes later. And since I had the day off from work, that just meant I could have more time to ponder the meaning of last night.

And ponder I did.

When I thought about Eric now, I didn't feel as cold. There was a little warmth, even though it wasn't enough to warm a marshmallow with. But, that was enough right now. Tonight, with the video and the conversation, was a step up—one small step for Eric, one giant step for Sookie. No fangs were shown and, as Eric pointed out, no tears were shed. Then again, no hugs were exchanged and no kisses were shared. Yet.

But I had hope. My God, I don't think I'd be able to deal with this if I didn't. It's amazing how much of a difference one small smile, or one little look can make. Eric had shown glimpses of his old self last night, even though he didn't realize it. He would move his hands a certain way or talk in a specific tone of voice that would send me travelling back to the time when Amnesiac Eric was living with me, when my biggest worry was Eric's blood staining my favorite coffee mug. Hah.

Even though it was more than a week ago, it felt like centuries had passed since the time I had stopped that fateful New Years Eve—probably not for Eric, though. What did I wish for again, when we all went around and shared our hopes for the new year after the shift ended at Merlotte's? _Peace and quiet._ Well, that was shot to hell about a half hour after I said those words. What did I do? I went out and picked up a complete stranger, a completely amnesiac Viking vampire stranger on the run from evil, spell-casting strangers—and then I fell in love with him, only to have him reawake from his curse with no memory of me.

I wasn't doing so well on losing ten pounds either. But right now that was the least of my worries.

'_I wish that was the only thing I wanted from you.'_ If only wondering about the meaning of Eric's big little though over and over again would help me understand it. Like, if after the hundredth time I went over phrase, then it would all click and I would figure out the meaning and why Eric was thinking that.

But nope. That wasn't the case here; I was still as confused as a zebra at a rodeo. What on Earth could he have meant by that? What could Eric want from me, besides information? Did he want me for my telepathy? My body? My conversation? Certainly not my crying, but what else could he have seen in me—or want to see in me? As much as the insight into Eric's mind was welcomed, I felt like it only made matters more complex, more puzzling. For me, at least. It's not like I could walk up to Eric and ask him what he meant by that. Or I could, but just not be alive long enough to be able to process his answer.

.................

Work was a welcome distraction. Luckily, Sam had been sticking to his word of giving me as many hours as he could. And damn, those were a lot of hours.

But I needed them. Eric hadn't called, visited, or even written me a letter since our conversation. Our conversation last week. _Last week. _Seven days ago. Seven_ fucking_ days ago.

There were so many times I picked up the phone and hung up after dialing a certain number printed on a certain business card. I found myself making excuses to do some shopping in Shreveport, but never actually going to the one place in Shreveport I genuinely wanted to go to. My thoughts always brought me to a Shreveport nightclub, one that I didn't visit no matter how much I wanted to.

I didn't know why. It was a little bit of everything, I guess: fear of rejection, fear of mistreatment, fear of broken hear. Oddly enough, it wasn't pride. Eric didn't seem to mind when he showed up at my house unannounced. Even though I didn't know where he lived, I did know where Fangtasia was. But I just didn't want to see Eric there.

Fangtasia was bad luck. That's the only reason. Think about it—the first time I went there, Eric physically attacked this bad-mouthing Were and was forced to leave the building before he hurt the tentative vampire-Were alliance. The second time I went to Fangtasia, the witches had swung by to put a horrible spell on the employees. And the third was when Eric emotionally attacked me, making me break down and cry; he had acted as anti-Eric as he could have been that night, and my heart still cringed when I thought about it.

But most of the times Eric was at my house, especially the last one, were different, better-different. No injuries—of any kind—and no arguments. More laughing than crying, and more smiling than frowning. Eric seemed more like Amnesiac Eric when he was at my house (with the exception of the first time that he wasn't Amnesiac Eric). I liked that, a lot.

Eric's elusiveness made me want to be closer to him. Had he thought about me since the last time we met? Did he come over one night, just to check up on me? Had he thought about calling me, and promptly hung up immediately after he dialed the numbers, like I had for him? Was he done with me, now that he had all the information he needed? Would he be welcoming the fangbanger's pushy come-ons, now that I wasn't with him at Fangtasia? Or would he still be dropping them on their asses?

Sam thought I needed to move on from this, and put it all behind me. Yeah, right. Not only did I _not_ want to forget Eric—ahem, not like he could say the same, although that wasn't on purpose, but still—but because I didn't think that was possible, or logical. For me, looking back was the only thing helping me move forward.

But, I agreed with Sam when he said I should have more company around the house. He was my only real friend these days, what with Jason and Dawn surgically attached to each other all the time, and Arlene too busy fretting over her kids and the new man in her life, Rene Lenier—who I think was her second husband, but I'm not sure. And it's not like I could call Pam.

Sam and I visited the animal shelter, and I brought home a kitten from the animal shelter—and let me tell you, I am so glad I did. Tina—after Tina Turner, who's such a fighter—is probably the best thing in my life right now. I'll talk to her, and she'll meow back. She gives me something to work for, to be better for. I give her food and a bed to sleep on and a large yard to roam around. We both give each other comfort, love, and stability. It's a good relationship. We suited each other.

My days were now filled with cats and dogs—the latter being Sam's go-to animal when shifting. He had shown me one night, when I asked him all about being a shifter. In addition to the gossip and comforting, we also would have lengthy discussions about our no-longer-secret abilities—my telepathy and Sam's shifting. Our weirdness made us closer. We were spending a lot of time together, or as much as we could with our schedules—brunches, movies, going to the grocery store to pick up supplies, or just hanging out. It was what having a best friend was like, I thought.

So that's what I had—a best friend, and a cat. No vampire, though.

But my cat was good to me, as was Sam. He knew today was the week-long anniversary, for lack of a better, more morose-sounding term, so I was scheduled to work a grueling shift tonight—one to ten.

And I welcomed it—I'd rather have a head full of someone else's thoughts than my own. Headaches were better than heartaches.

When I walked through the door, Merlotte's was packed and Sam had a big smile on his face, one that increased in size and meaning when I walked through the door. I hugged him hello and waved to all the other waitresses working. Everyone cheerfully greeted me back, except for Dawn—she glared at me and stomped into the bathroom without a second glance. Huh.

I shot Arlene a look, and she quickly peeked back at the now-closing bathroom door before taking a step closer to me and not-so-quietly whispering, "Oh, don't mind her. Apparently she got into a nasty squabble with Jason last night."

_Shit._ "What about?"

"Oh, I don't know. But Lafayette said she tried to talk Jason into going to that vampire bar, over in Shreveport? Fangtasia, I think? Anyways, she's been there a bunch of times and he freaked out and they got in a huge fight. Like, _huge_ huge. She went and he didn't and the poor girl's been banging cups and slamming doors all day."

"Do you think I should try and talk to her?" I whispered, nodding my head at the still-closed bathroom door.

"Yeah, if she doesn't bite your head off first," Arlene snorted. "Oh, looks like one of my tables needs a refill on their lemonade. Good luck."

Arlene hurried off, and I did too—only I was headed towards the bathroom with a nervous expression on my face, and she was sauntering over to her customers with a professional smile.

I hesitantly opened the door and called out, "Heyyyy Dawn."

I heard her sniffle in the bathroom, but no actual words.

"Look, I heard you got in a bit of a fight with Jason. Wanna talk about it?"

Still no reply.

I inched closer to the bathroom stall that showed her black Saucony sneakers. "Listen, hun, no one's better to rant to Jason about than his only sister. Believe me, I've gotten pissed off at him many, many times before. What happened?"

"I bet he's never called you a no-good fangbanging slut before, has he?" Dawn mumbled.

"Uh, no. But Jason has called me a poopyhead before. And not when he was in his single digits either. Like, when he was in his twenties."

She barked out a short, reluctant laugh. "He would."

I smiled. "So come on, what'd he do?"

Dawn didn't answer for a moment, and right when I was going to repeat myself she opened the stall door. Her long, usually commercial-perfect hair looked a little unwashed and unkempt, and her black eyeliner was smudged. I was surprised, because Dawn was usually the tough bitch, take-no-prisoners kind of girl, but I guess everyone's vulnerable when it comes to love. Who am I to judge, right?

She walked over to the sinks, where she started washing her hands. "He was just being a silly little Southern fuckhead. I asked him if he wanted to go to Fangtasia—you know Fangtasia, right? The vampire bar in Shreveport?"

Boy, did I. I nodded.

She continued, "So I've been there a couple times, and I really liked it. So I got this coupon in the mail for two-for-one drinks, and I asked Jason if he wanted to go with me. And then, then it kind of went all down-hill from there. Your brother's a big bigot, you know. Almost shit a brick when I told him I've had sex with a really, _really _hot vampire there, and that I let him drink from me. Then we got in a big argument and called each other names and then he just left. Haven't heard from him since. And I don't think I will."

"You didn't do anything wrong, you hear? Jason's just being an ass. In fact, he's being a donkey ass, because that's how much of an ass he is. He's an ass's ass."

A snort. A smirk. Then, "Preaching to the choir, sugar." Dawn rolled her eyes dramatically, and even though the effect was a little unsettling with her extra eye makeup, I laughed all the same. She did too, apparently glad she was back to having her Dawn sassiness. "And ya know what?" she asked.

"What?"

"I went to Fangtasia anyway, without Jason. Who needs him, right?"

"Totally. So, what'd you do there?" I asked. '_Please don't say anything about Eric please don't say anything about Eric_ _please don't say anything about Eric_.''

She tilted her head sideways, like you do when you're trying to remember something. "It's weird, 'cause I don't really remember what the night was like. I remember waiting in line to go in the club, and I remember that the bouncer lady carded me and asked for some ID, which made me feel real good, considering what just happened with Jason and all."

I nodded sympathetically. '_Please don't say anything about Eric please don't say anything about Eric_ _please don't say anything about Eric._'

"And I remember going to the bar to use my coupon to get my drinks and then … and then I was driving myself home. But I didn't feel drunk. I was just driving myself home. It's the weirdest thing. How the hell can you not remember a whole night? But, I was pretty upset. I probably had waaay too much to drink"

_Not if you know about glamoring_. "Huh," I replied sympathetically, because that's all I trusted myself with saying at the moment.

In the saddest, most self-deprecating way, Dawn said, "I'm glad Jason wasn't there when I got back, because he would have really thought I was a no-good fangbanging slut with a drinking problem."

"Nonsense. Like I said, Jason's an ass. Gran would be horrified if she heard about his behavior. She'd have been okay with a vampire, if she'd have met one. If you want me to give Jason some sisterly guilt, just say the world, 'kay?" I offered.

Dawn raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Well, I'm not saying don't do it … but you don't have to. I'm sure this is awkward for you. And I know we don't have the best relationship either. I'm not sure what I'd be doing if I was in your shoes."

And blunt Dawn was back. "I'll talk to him. I'd be glad to. I know Jason likes his beer and his Nascar, but I didn't know he was that much of a Southern boy, that he'd be … vampire racist. Someone needs to talk some sense into him, no matter how long that might take. But if it means anything, I'll say sorry for him."

Walking towards the door, Dawn sadly replied, "Oh, he'll apologize to me, sooner or later. They always do."

And right when I was thinking about how awful that statement was, and how awful it was that Dawn was so made so cynical about it, she turned around to look at me. "Thank you, Sookie. I … I'll see you out there. But this doesn't mean I'll take one of your tables or nothing, you hear?"

I smiled and waved goodbye, but as soon as she was out of the room, I got hit with a sudden burst of anger. What on earth did Jason say to make Dawn so vulnerable? And why the fuck was he so bigoted, about vampires? It's not like he's met any. And I sure am glad he didn't meet Eric, 'cause who knows what might have happened if he did.

Eric. Even though I wasn't a vampire, this had Eric's scent all over it. What did he do to Dawn—besides _glamoring_ her and screwing up things with Jason? He sent that stupid coupon to try and entice Dawn into coming to Fangtasia, and even though he probably got what they wanted—I'm assuming information about me?—it was all because he ruined her relationship with her boyfriend! Oh my god, was he able to think of anyone but himself? Did he not trust me—did he need a second opinion or something? Why would he need to see Dawn? Did he fuck her? Did he take her blood? Oh my God. Oh my God. Of course he did. Why wouldn't he? He's already had her, so what's stopping him from having her again?

After a few more moments, I pushed the anger away and went back to my tables and customers. And though I was hurt and upset and angry, I made damn sure none of my customers knew it. Not even Sam, because at the end of my shift, when I went back to say good night to him, he complimented me on how I was handling the one week anniversary. I just smiled and said good night before driving home.

I wanted nothing more to do than dig around for something sweet in the kitchen and put on my comfiest pajamas, but there was no way I was doing that tonight. No, tonight I was going to Fangtasia. And I was going to confront Eric about Dawn. And I was going to make him pay. Yes, I was going to make him pay.

I showered. I shaved. I put on more makeup than I usually do. I put on less clothing than I usually do. I put on my highest heels and my tightest dress. I blow-dried my hair.

And damn straight I sprayed some perfume on my neck.

...............

**A/N: So it's kind of like a baby chapter, but it's needed for the next chapter. Hell hath no fury like a woman who _thinks_ she's scorned, right? **


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Big hug and thank you to my beta chiisai-kitty for beta-ing this chapter at a vampire-like speed.*beams* And to all of you guys who reviewed!**

**These characters aren't mine …**

**...**

I should have known something was up when Pam wasn't standing at the door to Fangtasia like she usually was, but I didn't. I waited in line like the rest of the fangbangers, although this time I wasn't attracting as many rude thoughts. I was wearing a hot pink dress, one that was cut low on top and high on the bottom, that I had worn to one of Arlene's bachelorette parties, and even though it was extremely tight and the zipper hidden under my locks wasn't exactly pulled all the way up, I looked damn good tonight. The vibrant color, when coupled with my shiny blonde hair and radiant tan, did wonders for my appearance, and self-confidence. And I would need to be confident if I was going to do what I came here to do: bitch out Eric.

After some time I finally made it to the front of the line, where a male vampire let me in instead of Pam; he didn't recognize me or know who I was, but I guess I should be used to that by now.

Eric wasn't in his chair. Just like Pam, he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Longshadow, on the other hand, was right where I expected to be: behind the bar, wearing a suede brown vest and a creepy grin that was directed at me. Aha. At least there was some consistency here at Fangtasia.

I strode over to where he was standing and greeted him with a smile and a hello. He greeted me by dropping his fangs.

"Hi Longshadow, how are you?" I asked cheerfully.

He gave me a confused look and then shrugged his shoulders. Were vampires treated so terribly by everyone that they didn't know how to react when someone simply asked how they were? My heart melted a little for Longshadow.

"Okayyyy then. Do you know where Eric is?"

He flatly replied, "Gone."

"Um. Well, do you know where Pam is?" _On to Plan B._

"Gone."

_Well, hell. _"Oh. Are they gone together?" I asked impatiently.

"Yes."

"Let me guess, you're not going to tell me where they've gone?"

After a brief flash of a genuine smile, Longshadow shook his head and replied, "Smart human."

Biting back any retorts—and there was a lot of them—I said, "Do you know when they'll be back?"

"Why do you need to see him? Why did you come here? He wasn't expecting you, you know."

Longshadow raised an eyebrow after he finished speaking. Maybe he and Pam took eyebrow-raising lessons from Eric. Maybe that was part of the job requirement of working at Fangtasia or being in Eric's retinue, being able to raise your eyebrow to highlight important parts of what you're saying. Assholes.

_Eric wasn't expecting me. Would he ever expect me again? Could I ever expect him again, the way he once was?_

"Something came up, and I really need to talk to him. It's, uh, important."

He leaned closer to me, tilting his head towards the side of my face when he quietly answered, "Sometime later this evening. I do not know when." Longshadow then straightened and looked at me.

"Oh. Okay. Thank you, Longshadow."

He looked up quizzically at me. "For what? I didn't even get you a drink."

"Yeah, I know. It was for helping me out, talking to me. So … thanks again."

Longshadow paused before asking, "Gin and tonic, right? Coming right up."

I sat down on a bar stool and idly looked at all the famous celebrity vampire pictures hanging on the wall. Longshadow interrupted me from gazing at Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise in an _Interview with a Vampire_ promotional still when he set down my drink on a coaster.

I thanked him and he replied, "It's on the house. You are welcome to stay here until Eric returns."

"Yeah, I think I'll do that." I replied. Longshadow nodded and moved farther down the bar to start making drinks for other customers.

As I sipped my drink, I realized that maybe it was a good thing Eric wasn't here … only so I could better formulate my plan of attack. In the past, I'd thought of witty come-backs only after the arguments ended, so perhaps this was just a blessing in disguise. Now I could start thinking of all the points I wanted to make, all of the ways I wanted to verbally attack him for what he did to Dawn, and all of the questions I wanted to ask him about why he did what he did.

Or I could get very distracted when a tall, blonde man with blue eyes (but not as blue as Eric's, and his hair wasn't as long or blond as Eric's, and he wasn't as tall as Eric) sat down next to me and said, "You look like you could use a refill. And you look like you could use a refill bought for you by a very handsome man such as myself."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, smirking.

"Yeah. So then, what'll it be?" He smiled and raised an eyebrow, and thank goodness I was sitting down or else I'm pretty sure my knees would have buckled. When he smiled like _that_ and raised his eyebrow like _that_ … he looked kind of like Eric, if you squinted a little and turned your head. He looked like Eric, and he acted like Amnesiac Eric, which was a lethal combination.

I smiled. "Gin and tonic."

His smile matched my own, and we gazed at each other for a long second before he turned his head and said, "Make that two gin and tonics, please," to Longshadow, who had wandered over. Longshadow nodded stiffly and walked away, leaving me and my mystery man all alone. Good.

"Thank you …male," I said sweetly.

He grinned, his blue eyes lighting up. "Most people call me Adam … female."

"Most people call me Sookie. Hi," I replied, holding out my hand. We shook. His hands were warm and comforting. He held onto my hand longer than what was customary, but I didn't mind. I didn't mind one bit.

Longshadow returned with our drinks, and Adam shifted in his seat to take out his wallet from the back of his jeans pocket. When he did that, he leaned to the side, the side that was closest to me, and I could smell his cologne better—it was fresh and clean and just so masculine I had to close my eyes and inhale to savor the scent.

"Are you … are you all right?" I heard Adam ask, and I popped my eyes open. He was back in his original seated position, grinning lopsidedly at me. Longshadow did not look as amused.

"Never better," I grinned bashfully while cursing myself internally. Damn cologne!

"Don't lie. You looked miserable earlier. That's partly why I came over." Adam stopped and leaned closer to me—damn cologne! damn arm muscles peeking out from underneath the sleeves of his tight white button down! —so he could whisper in my ear, "And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't because you are so incredibly sexy."

I blushed. "It's complicated."

"Well, I've got all night … and morning." He glanced quickly at Longshadow, who was paying more attention to me now than he ever had.

"I can think of better things to do than talk about that," I replied boldly, finishing off my second drink and plunking it down on the coaster. I licked my lips and stared hard at him.

"Like what?"

"Like dancing?" I asked while holding out my hand.

The combination of alcohol, compliments, and Eric-induced anger was making me feel and act like an honorary member of _Sex and the City_. I was acting like I would have been acting if Eric was here to watch all of this. But he wasn't. Because he "wasn't expecting" me. But Longshadow was here. And all these vampires, they're such gossips. Let's give them something to talk about then, hmm? Surely Longshadow would be sure to pass on the memo that a Miss Sookie Stackhouse is fully capable of being in the company of someone else—just like Eric was, with that someone else being Dawn? Yes.

"Good thinking." Adam said, taking my hand and leading me to the dance floor, his steps matching the beat of the techno music that was functioning as the pulse of the vampire bar.

I had never danced with Eric before, in any way or any version of him, so I wasn't able to compare Adam to Eric in that particular field. Adam was a damn good dancer. He knew where to put his feet … and his hands. He wasn't Eric, but he was close. Almost too close. If he was Eric, I still wouldn't be feeling this hurt and confused and troubled. If he was Eric, this would have felt better. It would have felt right. But it didn't. Not really.

After more songs and dances than I wanted to think about, Adam and I made our way back over to the bar. He ordered us some shots, since we had already had my favorite drink, the gin and tonic, and it was time for us to have his favorite drink, tequila. And we spent a lot of time and money getting to know his favorite drink. In fact, right now tequila was my best friend.

Longshadow certainly wasn't. He seemed to very reluctantly set down each shot glass that we ordered. Of course, I didn't pay much attention to it at the time. Or Longshadow himself. Nope. Just Eric … I mean, Adam. Adam.

Then Longshadow had to ruin all the fun Adam and I were having by asking Adam if he drove a silver Saturn with a license plate number of something-or-other—I wasn't paying too much attention. It turns out Adam did drive a silver Saturn with a license plate number of something-or-other—how crazy is that, right? What a coincidence! Anyways, it turned out someone had hit his car, and the police were outside and he needed to answer some questions and do some insurance stuff and whatever, so Adam told me he'd be right back before he scurried out the door.

I frowned when Adam left, but that frown turned itself upside down when Longshadow told me Eric was on his way, and that I should go to his office and wait for him there. I reached across the bar counter to hug Longshadow, who suddenly decided now would be a good time to pretend he was a tree and stand stiffly and not hug me back. Boo-hoo. No fun. After a giggle, I let go of Longshadow, and he walked from out behind the bar so he could take me by the elbow and lead me to Eric's office.

He plopped me down in a black leather chair and gruffly said, "Don't go anywhere. If you leave this room, then Eric won't know where you are. And then you won't be able to meet with him. Do you understand that?"

I laughed. "Yeppers."

Longshadow shook his head sadly, and I continued, "When's Eric really coming, Longshadow? I know you know."

"I don't," he said darkly, managing to covey the immensity of his annoyance in two short syllables.

"You have secrets in your eyes!" I accused, pointing my finger for extra emphasis. But it didn't matter, because he just left the room. Well. Good. No one likes a sourpuss. He was ruining my vibe.

I looked around the office. It was cleaner than the last time I saw it. Well, technically, the last time I saw it was when I watched Eric's video … so in that case, the last time I saw it was last night. But the last time I saw it in person was when I visited Eric at Fangtasia and cried and argued and had my heart broken in here. Hmm. Let's think of something new. Yeah. New topic. NOW.

So when's Eric coming—and from where? I want to talk to him. About Dawn. And other stuff. But mostly Dawn. I hope he comes here soon. I'm sleepy. I'm tired. I hope he comes here soon. Maybe time will go by faster if I close my eyes for a little bit. Just a little nap. A cat nap. It'll be a kitten nap, that's how small this nap will be. Meow. Hello, inside of my eyelids. Hello, darkness. Hello—

...

Urrrrrrrrrgle. Why does my head hurt so fucking much? I opened my eyes, and blinked from the harshness of the light. When my eyes were finally able to focus, I thought I was sitting in front of Eric's desk, and Eric was sitting behind that desk doing some paperwork. I closed my eyes and reopened them, only now Eric had put down the pen and was looking expectantly at me, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I blinked some more. Was I dreaming? And if I was, why was Eric wearing clothes?

Oh, and why was there a red fleece Fangtasia blanket on top of me?

"Eric?" I said hesitantly, and then wincing at how loud and squeaky my voice was.

"Yes?"

"Where did this blanket come from?" I asked, taking an arm out from underneath the blanket so I could point to it. Like Eric needed a reference. He hadn't stopped staring at me since I opened my eyes. Maybe even before?

"That's the first thing you say when you wake up in my office at Fangtasia? Really?" Eric said, his smile broadening.

"Yes. I really have my priorities straight," I muttered, shrugging off the blanket and standing up—too quickly. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Once I was all good, I asked, "What were you doing tonight?"

Eric tilted back in his chair as he answered, "It's funny. I was just about to ask you that question."

"At the risk of sounding like a five-year-old … I asked first," I said, fully recognizing the absurdity of my comment given that it was spoken to a thousand-year-old vampire.

"So you did."

Eric folded his hands and rested them on his stomach; it was then that I really took the time to notice, and appreciate, his navy pinstriped suit and light blue shirt underneath. He pulled it off, and he pulled it off like no other man, no matter how handsome, could have done. Seriously … I was upset with myself for not noticing this earlier, because that meant I would have been able to spend more time admiring him. Oy. My head still hurts.

Eric raised his eyes to the ceiling and kept his gaze there for a couple seconds. Although I was confused, I took advantage of the situation and checked him out when he wasn't looking. No shame. No shame in doing that. Not when he looked this gorgeous.

After he was done doing whatever he was doing, he went back to looking right at me. "I had business to take care of in New Orleans."

I shifted in my seat, trying to find the comfiest position. I was tired and sleepy and didn't want Eric to know it. "What's in New Orleans? And why did Pam need to be there?" I asked as I took the blanket off of me and put it on the chair next to mine.

Eric's gaze shifted south for a second, resting on the hemline of my dress, which had already risen quite high from my sitting position. I tugged on the hemline and after a dazed moment he looked back up at me and said, "Pam was there because I wanted her to be there. And my … my boss is in New Orleans."

I snorted. "You have a _boss_?"

He looked affronted as he replied, "Why is that so hard to believe? Everyone has a boss, in some form or another. _You_ have a boss, even though he's just a shifter."

"Yeah, but I'm not Eric Northman."

Eric shrugged. "Naturally."

"Don't be a smart alec. You know what I mean," I replied flippantly,

"I actually don't. I'm not a smart alec. If anything, I'm a smart Eric."

"Yeah, yeah. A smart Eric with a boss. Got it. Look, I know I don't know much about you—though not for lack of trying—but I thought you owned all of your businesses, like Fangtasia and whatever business Longshadow was overseeing before all of this."

Sighing, Eric tilted back in his chair and rested his feet on the table. I was shocked to find that they were bare—no socks, no loafers, and not even flip flops. Just his feet. The intimacy of this made my insides squee. It was a gesture so small for him, but so grand for me. Everyone got to see the Eric who wore the suit, but I got to see him with the suit and his bare feet.

After a few moments, he softly said, "You know I am the Sheriff of Area Five, yes?"

Something in my brain clicked, so I replied, "Yeah. Oh, wait a sec—is your boss the queen? The queen of Louisiana? Her name starts with an 's' right? And there's a hyphen somewhere?"

Eric looked a little startled, but he recovered and smoothly said, "Sophie-Anne Leclerq. Yes, she's my boss. I had to meet with her tonight."

"Why is she in New Orleans? If she's the queen, shouldn't she reside in the state capital?"

"One would think that, like other political leaders, the queen would live in the capital. However, New Orleans is the most profitable, and also the largest, vampire-centric area in the state, thanks to Anne Rice. Therefore, New Orleans is part of the area that the queen looks over, much like how I look over Area Five, and that is where she lives."

"Oh. Is everything okay?"

He did that adorable little eyebrow-crinkling thing, the one I was used to seeing on Amnesiac Eric when he was perplexed or missed a modern idiom. "I don't understand the premise of your question."

"You know … the meeting with the queen. Is everything okay? Did it go well?"

"As well as it could have been."

Silence. I was boxed off, closed off. That was all I was going to get from Eric; that was as far as he was letting me go.

And right when I was about to make an insignificant little comment about how glad I was that his meeting went well, Eric suddenly added, "I thought she might have questioned me about the witch war, and all of the individual events surrounding it, but she didn't. It really was just a regular check-in meeting about finances and taxes and other mundane points of interest."

"What's so bad about her knowing about the witch war?" I asked.

Eric shrugged. "It wouldn't necessarily be bad … just, a lot of work and explaining and paper work. Luckily no vampires died, so that created less hassle for everyone. I'm very pleased with how the meeting went."

I hesitated before replying, "You didn't mention me, did you?"

He shook his head. "No, I didn't. I didn't talk about the spell that was cast on me, either. It would not have been wise to do so." Eric stopped looking at the ceiling and turned his gaze to me. "The queen is very unpredictable, which is perhaps her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. She is fond of keeping pets, the queen, and from what I know of you, and what she does to her pets, I do not think you would like being her pet."

"Well, she probably wouldn't want me anyways. After all, I'm just a waitress. She's a freaking _vampire queen_! "

"You forget that you are a telepath. That is a very valuable trait, especially for vampires. Even more so for vampires of power, like the queen," Eric said very matter-of-factly.

"And like you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and waiting for Eric's response.

"Yes. Like me. But you would do well to remember that I haven't yet asked you to use your telepathy for me."

"Were you planning on it?"

"Yes," he said simply, plainly. The starkness of his answer made me stop for a moment, just so I could process it. Well … he could have lied about it. At least he was honest. And that prompted me to be as honest as he was being.

Still, I hesitated before asking, "Eric, am I your … pet?"

I didn't even know what that meant. Was being someone's pet a good thing? Did I want to be Eric's pet … whatever that meant? I'd rather be his pet than the queen's, from what he'd told me about her.

Eric barked a short, harsh laugh. "I don't do pets."

"Oh. Um, well, what are pets, anyways?"

Eric ran a hand through his hair, unknowingly pulling some strands out of his ponytail. They framed his face now, as if he needed to be any more gorgeous. He thoughtfully replied, "Pets are humans that vampires keep nearby for blood and sex. Fangbangers are pets, Sookie. V-addicts, or people addicted to vampire blood and the vampire way of life, are pets. Pets are basically humans that have no greater ambition in life than to be with a vampire, and have no qualms about doing whatever it takes to become a vampire's pet."

I nodded, but didn't say anything. Eric didn't say anything either. "So I guess tonight was my night to ask all the questions, huh?" I joked. I smiled a little at the weak inside joke I shared with Eric, a smile that grew when Eric returned it.

"The night is still young. Besides, you still haven't said why you came to Fangtasia," he replied easily, raising an eyebrow.

FUCK how could I have forgotten? Stupid drinks and dressy suit and bare feet and actual conversation!

I leapt out of my chair, almost stumbling on my shoes that had somehow made their way onto the floor, since I didn't remember taking them off. Wait, did Eric take them off of me? Did he do that when he put the blanket on me? If he even was the one to put the blanket on me? GAH Eric!

"Right. I forgot about that," I said, and Eric chuckled. That enraged me even more. "So Eric, why the FUCK did Dawn Green get an invitation to come to Fangtasia, and why can't she remember _anything_ about what she did here?" I cried out, turning on the bitch.

"Jealous, Sookie?" Eric smirked. SMIRKED. At a time like this? NOW?

"What? NO. That is _so _not the issue right now. I'm _angry_ because Dawn probably never would have gotten that invitation if I hadn't told you, or Pam, or whoever that she was the only way I was able to recognize you that night on the side of the road."

Eric waved his hands impatiently in a type of 'go on' movement. GRRRRR.

I started pacing the floor as I continued, "So why did she get that invitation? Was that your way of luring her in so you could … I don't even know why you'd want to do that, actually. That's part of the reason why I'm here right now."

"What's the other part?" Eric asked innocently. Apart from putting his feet back on the floor and sitting up straight in his desk, he hadn't moved or shown any other facial expression other than nonchalance—a far cry from what I've been doing or showing.

"Oh, don't worry, we'll get to that after you answer why she got that invitation," I snarled back.

In an eerily, and annoyingly, calm voice, Eric said, "Firstly, Dawn received a _coupon_ in the mail, not an invitation. The coupon was for two-for-one drinks, and she received it because she signed up for our mailing list one of the times she was here. Perhaps if you had taken the time to sign up for the Fangtasia mailing list, you too would have received a coupon in the mail."

"Yeah, well, I must have been too busy being insulted by supernatural creatures, yourself included, and saving people's lives, because that's all I seem to be capable of doing when I'm at Fangtasia. Sorry."

Ignoring my dig, Eric continued, "Secondly, I'll admit that yes, when she did arrive, I had Pam take care of her. We were both aware of her connection to you, however fragile that might be—as we soon found out—and so when Pam saw her in line she gave her to me for questioning."

"Questioning, huh? Is that a euphemism for fucking?" I spat.

Eric's face hardened as he stood up and testily replied, "No, it's not. I _questioned_ her about you, to see what you are like when you aren't crying, sleeping, or arguing, because that's all I've seen you do."

"Well, Eric, let me _first_ say that you've seen me cry and argue because of you, and I wouldn't have been doing those things if it weren't for you. Okay? _Secondly,_ that is complete bullshit. You've fucked her before, so why wouldn't you just fuck her again?"

Eric's eyes were blazing blue, and he closed them for a couple seconds. Then, he slowly walked over to right in front of where I was standing, taking his time with deliberate steps. I never took my eyes off of him, and his gaze never strayed from my face.

Once he was right in front of me, he quietly and slowly replied, "As I said earlier, I did not want Dawn to come to Fangtasia for the sole purpose of fucking her. I do not care whether or not you choose to believe it; all I ask is that you understand it. Why is it that you complain that I do not know you, and when I try to get to know you by questioning your friend, you become very angry and accuse me of things without having any evidence to back up your silly claims?"

I felt really giddy about Eric trying to get to know me … for about half a second. Then logic kicked it. "Eric, are you kidding me? That is the lamest excuse ever. If you want to get to know someone, you ask _them_ the questions! You have the conversation with that person, not with their co-worker!"

"Yes, well, it's not like we're the best at having conversations," Eric threw in.

I continued, "Why did you feel the need to go behind my back and ask Dawn questions? Were my answers not good enough? Did you not trust my answers? Huh? What made you do it? Just tell me. Give it to me straight. Why did you do that, Eric?"

"It was just a way of confirming and double-checking everything you said, and also a way to see what you're like normally. That's all."

"And I'm sure her being an ex-lover of yours had nothing to do with it."

"No, because it didn't. She isn't an ex-lover. At best, she's just another feed and fuck."

"Then why did she have to come all the way to Fangtasia? She broke up with her boyfriend to come here, you know."

"Actually, I do know. She was a blubbering mess when she came in. We had to glamour her very strongly just so she would shut up about Jason—your brother, I believe." He nodded deeply when talking about my brother.

Hm. He must be telling the truth. I never told him Dawn was dating my brother. I don't think I ever told him Jason's name either.

"Promise me you won't go after Jason. He doesn't know about you at all, except for whatever Dawn told him. Promise me that, Eric. I'll do anything just so you don't contact him and meet with him or something like that," I pleaded. Jason was innocent. He didn't do anything. There was no need for him to meet Eric and get involved in all of this supernatural stuff like I did, or even Dawn did, to a lesser extent.

"Anything?" Eric raised an eyebrow.

I nodded weakly, for once not liking the trademark Eric Northman raised eyebrow.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Uh … nothing. I'm off work at five."

"Excellent. Come here at eight."

"For what?" I asked nervously.

"I want to test out your telepathy, most likely have you read the customers and staff. Plus, we could both work on our conversational skills."

"We could just converse now. I could read the customers and staff now."

"However, it is getting close to closing time at Fangtasia. Most of the customers have left anyway. You do know that it is almost three, yes?"

I blinked. Three a.m? Holy smokes! No wonder I was so tired. You'd think that all of the arguing with Eric would have gotten the blood pumping and the adrenaline rushing, but it really didn't. I wasn't yawning or anything, but if I had stayed on the chair and didn't need to fight, I probably could have gone back to sleep.

"Fine. Tomorrow night it is," I said.

Eric replied, "I must check on something in the bar now, but I'll be back in a matter of minutes to finalize the events for tomorrow evening."

I made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. After a final glance at me, Eric straightened and walked over to his desk, where he slipped on a pair of brown leather flip flops. He nodded at me before he went out the door.

I sat back down in the chair, all of the fight out of me once Eric wasn't in the room. Burdened with the knowledge I had amassed tonight, I picked up the blanket and bundled it into a pillow that I could rest my head on. Ahhhh. That felt good. Really, really good.

...

A hand was on my shoulder, shaking me slightly. "Sookie, it is time for you to wake up."

"Whaaaaaa?" I asked groggily, opening one eye. Eric was hovering over me, now dressed in a tight white shirt, the kind most guys wear as undershirts, and a pair of plain black sweatpants.

"You should be on your way home now," Eric said by way of clarification. He had removed his hand as soon as I woke up, I dimly noticed.

I nodded but didn't get out of the chair, yawning instead.

"Where are your keys?" he asked.

"In my purse." I looked around. Where was my purse? I didn't remember bringing it into Eric's office all those hours ago. I looked up at Eric and shrugged. "Wherever that is."

"Longshadow," Eric called out, enough so that Longshadow immediately came whizzing through the door within the next five seconds.

"Do you know where Sookie left her purse?" Eric asked, only turning to glance at Longshadow after he finished his question.

"Yes, Sheriff. She forgot it at the bar when she went to dance, and I kept it for her."

"Very well. Bring it to us."

Longshadow nodded and was out the door before I could think of anything to say. Then he was back, and holding my purse. Instead of giving it to me, Longshadow handed it to Eric, who in turn held it out for me to take.

Keys, license, wallet. Check, check, and check. Everything looked good. I thanked Longshadow, who simply nodded again and asked Eric if he needed anything else. Eric said that was all, and then Longshadow was gone.

"I'm going to drive you home. Give me your keys," Eric said softly yet authoritatively once we were all alone.

"No, I'm fine," I replied, standing up.

"You ingested a large quantity of alcohol earlier this evening, and you are tired and sleepy. I left you alone for five minutes and you dozed off. You shouldn't be driving," Eric persisted.

I opened my mouth to tell Eric that I wasn't drunk anymore, and that I would be more than okay with driving myself home … but then I realized that I would be a fool if I did that. Here Eric was, after I bitched him out, offering to drive me home. Not because he needed to, not because I asked him to, but because he wanted to. Or he was concerned about the life of his new telepath. But whatever, he was caring about me. He didn't want me to get in a car crash and die.

"Alright, here you go," I said, digging through the purse to hand him my keys. I placed them

firmly in the offered palm of his hand, and his fingers closed around them. I slipped into my heels and shrugged off the blanket.

"You can keep it if you want, the blanket. It was a failed promotional piece of merchandise. Vampires don't need blankets for warmth, and the fangbangers don't want them if the vampires don't want them," Eric said nonchalantly, looking over his shoulder.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks," I replied, doubling back to pick up the blanket. Hey, it was free. And I needed a new one to replace the quilt. Funny how Eric would forever be associated with both of them.

As we walked down the hall, there was just the sounds of my heels click-clacking and Eric's sandals flip-flopping, nothing more. He held the door open for me—we were going out the back entrance—and after that we were in the parking lot. My car was the only one left, so I didn't need to point it out to Eric; we just started drifting towards it, wordlessly. We got in the car and he started it up and then we were off. And no words whatsoever were spoken during this.

If I thought Eric had driven fast the night he drove me home from the witch fight, then I thought wrong. Eric driving fast was Eric driving me home this night. He drove like a crazy person—a crazy person who'd be pretty hard to kill. We weren't so much flying as trying to go back in time like in _Back to the Future._

"I thought the point of you driving me home was so that I wouldn't get in a car crash," I muttered after Eric rounded a particularly hard curve at a speed that made me wish my fingernails were long enough to bite and my hands weren't so sweaty that I was having trouble grabbing onto the arm rest.

Eric turned slightly and looked at me blankly.

"Remember, I'm mortal," I quipped.

"I think about that often," he replied, his eyes now fixed on the road ahead of him.

He didn't turn to look at me, and for once I was glad of that, because of the gobsmacked expression currently stuck on my face. What a response. What a response. There's no way I could respond to him. That was a first.

"You are surprised?" he asked, finally turning to face me. Luckily I had just managed to take back control of my facial expressions, because I was now modeling a neutral one.

"Huh?" I asked very intelligently.

"You feel surprised right now. Is that because of what I just said?" Eric repeated.

"I … what?" I fumbled. That came out of nowhere. I had forgotten he could feel what I was feeling. Huh. That must have been interesting for him, every time we were together. And every time we weren't. Shit.

"Uh … well, to be honest, yeah, I was surprised by that," I mumbled.

"Why?"

"It's just that … ummmm, I didn't know you thought about me. Or my mortality. Often. Uh …yeah."

"Yes, I do think of you, as I know you think of me."

YUCK. Did we _really _need to have this conversation right now? I'd prefer arguing over this. And damn him for playing the 'I can feel your feelings' card—not cool, Eric, not cool. I definitely did not like that he was putting me on the spot like this, right now. So I was going to give him a taste of his own medicine. And I totally wasn't going to tell him how often I thought of him.

"So since you think about me, and often, what did you think about what happened tonight?" I asked, turning to face Eric now.

He glanced at the road in front of him, and then went back to me. "In order to sufficiently answer that question, I need you to be more specific."

"Alright. Me and that guy who bought me drinks and danced with me. What did you think about that, Eric?"

'_Yeah, take that! What now!'_ I thought, thinking there's no way that Eric could beat that.

"I'm sure it's equal to what you thought about me and Dawn," he coolly replied, not missing a beat.

Again with the conversation-stopping comebacks! All I could come up with was, "Touché" and then I stared out the window and tried not to listen to Eric's quiet chuckles.

If Eric had picked up on the weird funk I had slipped into, he didn't comment on it, and for that I was thankful. I didn't need any more. We arrived at my house faster than humanly, or even legally, possible. And yet, I was saddened by that. Sitting in a car with Eric and not speaking to him was better than sitting alone in my house and thinking of him. As much as I hated to admit that, it was true. As always, spending time with Eric was … never what I imagined. And it was usually better than what I imagined.

Once we were parked in my driveway, Eric turned the car off but neither of us moved. I noticed that during the whole trip he hadn't even glanced at the radio, yet alone try and pick a station. That made my heart hurt.

The silence was stifling. It was like Eric and I were all talked out, and didn't know what to do with ourselves. This, this awkward waiting in the car in my driveway, this no talking thing … it made me feel like Eric and I were coming home from a first date.

And of course Eric looked unbothered, or at least he did out of the corner of my eye. Me? I was drumming my fingers on my knees, internally criticizing the messiness of my lawn and the peeling paint job, and alternating between staring out the window and trying to sneak peeks of Eric.

"So you didn't cry tonight," Eric said suddenly, breaking the silence. I turned to look at him, and he turned to look at me.

"Lucky for you," I said ruefully, grinning.

He smiled softly. "I'd say it was lucky for you too."

We gazed at each other for a moment, and then I broke it by reaching for the door handle and getting out of the car. Eric did the same.

"Thank you for driving me home," I said finally. We were in the front of my car now, right in the middle, and facing each other.

Eric nodded, but didn't say anything. However, he did hold out the keys for me, and I took them gratefully.

"Until tomorrow, then," he murmured.

I gulped. "Yep. See you tomorrow."

Eric watched me walk over to my house, and once I closed the kitchen door I immediately ran over to the kitchen, where I caught a fleeting glimpse of Eric flying off in the night.

I walked over to a kitchen chair and slumped down in it. I was running out of cute clothes to wear to Fangtasia, probably because I never thought I was going to need them.

Eric didn't say my presence was required at Fangtasia tomorrow, like he had told Pam to say the first time I went to Fangtasia, or like how Pam asked Sam. Baby steps.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry the update schedule is lagging a little bit. But now that I'm finally, finally, FINALLY all done with high school (my graduation is today, actually!), it should go back to normal updates—maybe even a little quicker. Maybe. **

**In the last chapter, I had Eric say that having no one died in the witch war meant less hassle with him and the queen. Someone pointed out (and thanks again!) that in this story, Clancy did die … which I had overlooked because I was thinking about it as who died in the actual battle. So I guess, for regularity's sake, Eric would have reported Clancy's death as a result of an anti-vampire terrorist act—which it kinda was. But I just wanted to clear that up and say sorry for the confusion!**

**Thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty, who beta-ed this at a vampire like speed (and her vampire vision is so good at catching all my mistakes) but I did go back and do some quick little edits, so any remaining mistakes are all mine, unfortunately. And thank you to CH too!**

**...**

My body was at Merlotte's but my mind was at Fangtasia. As important and beloved as my job was, my mind just wanted to memorize every single detail of last night, rather than today's specials. I filled the salt shaker with pepper, and the pepper shaker with salt. I completely forgot old Jim Norrison's order, the open faced turkey dinner sandwich, even though he'd never ordered anything else. Everyone asked me if I was doing okay, even Holly, who had barely made eye contact with me after the whole interview-at-Fangtasia thingy. Guess Jim Norrison wasn't the only one to pick up on my absentmindedness. In all honesty, I was so glad I remembered I was scheduled to work today that I didn't care. Especially because working meant that the day would go by faster, so soon it would be night time again and I could see Eric.

Before my shift started, I had called my old high school friend, Tara Thornton, who owned her own clothing store, Tara's Togs, in the strip mall by the highway. Although we weren't as close as we used to be, she knew me and my size, and I was kind of in a bind on account of how her store opened after I was due to work at Merlotte's. But in our phone conversation, she had assured me that she'd see if there was anything I would like, and I was supposed to stop by there after work and pick up the clothes. If there were any. Oh God, I hoped she found something.

I had also called Jason before work, just to check up on him and see how he was doing after the issue with Dawn. We hadn't hung out much since Eric, and to be honest, I was kind of glad he had never met Eric, based on how he reacted to finding out Dawn had been with a vampire (Eric), and frequented a vampire night club (Eric's). Still, I kind of missed Jason, oddly enough. He hadn't picked up, on either his cell phone or his house phone, but I did call at ten in the morning so he was probably sleeping. Maybe with another girl, but that wasn't any of my business.

Now work was done, and it was time for me to head over to Tara's Togs and hopefully find something to wear to Fangtasia. Something that would make Eric notice me, but not in a business way. In a lover's way—an old, past, maybe present, hopefully future lover's way. Surely someone made a dress like that. Right?

I drove like Eric to get to Tara's Togs. I literally ran into the store, startling Tara as I seemed to make it to the cashiers from the door in three seconds flat.

"Sookie! Hey! How are you?" Tara called out once I appeared in front of her. She was taller and thinner than I was, with long dark brown hair that she must have recently had styled, because there were blunt bangs across her forehead that weren't there the last time I saw her B. E. (Before Eric). She was wearing a dark green turtleneck that flattered her olive complexion, and tight dark jeans tucked into a fantastic pair of worn brown leather boots. She looked like she _would_ own her own clothing store.

After exchanging pleasantries and quickly catching up, Tara ushered me over to the dressing rooms, where she had already hung an entire rack of clothing just for me. As honored and appreciative as I was about her gesture, the abundance of clothing, mostly dresses but a few skirts and tops and one leather catsuit that I most definitely wasn't going to wear, meant an abundance of time would be needed to sort through them all—an abundance of time I didn't necessarily have. Having secretly moving the catsuit to another rack (I had told Tara I was going to Fangtasia, so that's probably why that outfit was picked), I quickly started flipping through the clothes. And there were so many clothes—just not enough time to try them all on, unfortunately!

I narrowed my choices down to a deep purple dress that Tara called a "bondage dress" because it clung to my body (so much that Tara gave me some special tape to use to keep the girls up, because there wasn't a bra in the world that could fit under this dress), a dress that was nude with black lace on top of it that had off-the-shoulder sleeves and made my neck and collarbone look deliciously biteable—ahem—and, lastly, a burgundy one-shoulder silk cocktail dress that was understatedly sexy. I couldn't decide between them, so I did a mega splurge—even with Tara insisting that they were all on sale and saying I could use her employee discount—and bought all three, though I was sure I would end up kicking myself for it later. Plus, I already had a pair of black peep-toe heels at home and I wasn't buying any jewelry or makeup or any other accessories either. So, it was okay to buy three dresses. That was my reasoning, and I was sticking to it. Yeah. Anyways, I'd probably have to go to Fangtasia at least two more times, so now I wouldn't have to scramble for an appropriate outfit. Yeah.

After frantically thanking Tara and promising a multitude of baked goods and prayers and well wishes for any and all future children and pets, I hustled home and just barely had enough time to wash up—not enough time to wash my hair, but it looked, and smelled, fine and I'd read that clean hair was harder to style. I was able to tease my hair into a high ponytail that bounced when I walked, but just in case I spritzed a little perfume in my hair anyway. I brushed on some dark, charcoal-y eye makeup and the lightest pink lip gloss I had, and with my heels and my black silk clutch—bought it for Gran's funeral—and my makeup and hair and the purple dress I had picked out earlier, I looked and felt like a model fashionista. But, I put arriving at Fangtasia on time over the well-being of my shoes, as I practically wore down the heels from using the gas pedal way too much, and too often.

The parking lot of Fangtasia was packed, both with cars and people waiting in line to get in, but I still managed to find a decent parking spot and go to the front door, where Pam greeted me with a smirk instead of a salutation.

"Hi Pam. How you've been?" I said conversationally. Pam was wearing a red, glittery floor-length dress whose neckline seemed to almost go to the floor as well; looked like I wasn't the only one using secret boob tape tonight.

"Dead. But you knew that already," Pam dryly replied while checking me out. After her eyes made their way down to my shoes, they travelled all the way up to my eyes, and that's when she continued, "My my my, don't you look especially delicious tonight."

I beamed. "Thank you, Pam."

Pam nodded by way of thanks and said, "You are to go to Eric's booth. He'll be there. Have fun." She moved to the side to let me through, and was asking for someone's ID before I even had time to ask.

Eric's booth? Was that the booth I was in earlier, when Eric came to get me? Or was there another Eric booth? I mean, technically speaking, weren't _all_ the booths Eric's? Oy.

Still not knowing where I was going to end up, I walked inside the club. Although I didn't head straight to the bar like I did last time—but Lord knows I could use a drink right now—I nodded to Longshadow (who, surprisingly enough, nodded back) and started walking over to the section with all the booths. I strolled past the booth I had sat in the first time I went to Fangtasia, but no dice.

Then I looked up, and I automatically knew which booth was Eric's booth—because he was sitting majestically in it, and looking straight at me. His hair was shiny and splashed over his broad shoulders barely contained in the light gray suit he was wearing, the one that went well with his black shirt and light blue tie. I made my way over there, with Eric's eyes on me with every step, and he stood up once I neared the table.

"Please. Sit," he murmured while grinning crookedly. He gestured to the seat on the other side of the booth, and I sat down. He timed it so that he sat down when I did, so now we were just looking at each other across the table. That is, we were until Eric broke eye contact to beckon a finger. I thought he meant me, so I leaned in closer to him, but it turns out that he was calling over a cocktail waitress, who set down a gin and tonic in front of me and a True Blood in front of Eric. Oh. I straightened my shoulders, but Eric hadn't seemed to notice my faux pas.

"That is all," Eric said to the waitress, who had lingered long after she set down our drinks on the table. With a final glance—and some snooty thoughts—at me, she finally left us, and then it was just me and Eric.

"Thank you, Eric," I said, picking up my drink. He nodded but didn't say anything.

"Cheers!" I continued awkwardly, bringing my glass in the air, like how you'd hold it if you'd, well, want to toast someone. I waited for Eric to do the same, but he didn't.

"The drink is that good? You haven't even tried it yet," Eric said confusedly, eyeing my glass.

I chuckled. "No, it's what you say when you're having drinks with someone, like a toast or something. It's nothing, really, it's just something you do. No one's ever done this with you?"

Eric scoffed, "I know what toasting is, I just wasn't expecting it. I do remember a custom like this many, many years ago—when I still had to pretend to be a human. When meeting with people for business arrangements, you would all touch glasses, as a sign of trust. It was mandatory for all involved in the toast to pour a little bit of their drink into the others, in a circle, until fully rounded, so as to show there was no poison in anyone's drink." He paused and looked at me. "That certainly was a cause for cheer if all could be trusted."

"Yes. Well then. Cheers." I brought my glass closer to his bottle, and a moment later he clinked his drink with mine.

"Cheers indeed," he murmured, meeting my eyes across the table. We both took long sips of our respective drinks.

As soon as his bottle was set on the table, Eric leaned back in his seat and said, "I want you to read the minds of the people here tonight. For me."

"Okay. Sure," I easily replied.

He nodded. "Now, do you need to be touching them, or in close proximity to them?"

I shook my head. Why would he ask me that? Then I thought about it—the only two times Eric saw me read people, or know I was reading people, I was either holding their hands and seated across from them, or I was cowering behind Eric's back. At least he was paying attention. To me.

"No, I'll be fine from here, if that's where you want to do this."

"I am agreeable to that."

"Am I looking for anything in particular, or am I just looking?"

"Anything that pertains to this club, or anything that is relevant, you should report to me. Just keep an eye out—or perhaps it would be more correct if I said you should keep a brain out."

I laughed, and Eric smiled briefly in response. I thought he'd get up, maybe go to his office to do some paperwork, and have me just sit here and report back to him later. But nope, he reached for his True Blood and took another sip. Looked like he was here to stay. Good. Hiding my smile, but failing because Eric was sitting right across the table from me, I opened my shields and began feeling around.

"A lot of people are wondering who I am, and why I'm here with you," I said honestly, looking right at Eric the whole time I was talking. I was eager to hear his response, and judging by his slow response and tight face, he wasn't as eager to give it.

"Interesting. What else?"

"That man there, in the navy sports coat? He's here with his favorite mistress. He's been married to his wife for fifteen years and cheating on her for twelve of them."

Eric shrugged. Guess infidelity wasn't relevant. Or important. Well then. He said, "I'm looking for things that are illegal, and put the well-being of Fangtasia and those involved with it at harm."

"Okay. Um, let me see …. Oh! Those college-aged girls on the dance floor all got in with fake IDs. They're freshmen at the state university here," I said, pointing to the girls in question.

"It seems Pam is getting sloppy, or distracted. Perhaps both. I will see to it," Eric replied. He took another sip of his drink.

Eric also said he'd see to the group of V-addicts huddled in the men's bathroom, the other underage bar patrons, and the drug dealer sulking by the door trying to find new clients. But I had to wrangle a promise from him that he would give those people up to the proper authorities, and not go all vampire sheriff on them. Judging by how he looked when I told him about the V-addicts, and how reluctant Chow was to agree to a similar agreement the first time I read people at Fangtasia, it was necessary. I did have to promise to read people for him, whenever he wanted. But that wasn't really too much. I would have read for him, whether he asked me to or not. He just didn't need to know that—now.

Besides hanging out with Eric, I actually had fun with him—a first, for this Eric. We developed this little game where I would ask Eric what he thought a person was thinking, and he would guess. Using my telepathy, I'd reveal whether he was close or not. It was a lot of fun, and the fact that it was fun I was having with Eric made it that much sweeter.

"That man there, in the tie? Of course he is wanting to seduce the redhead he is talking to. Why wouldn't he?" Eric said, lifting his chin at the man in question.

"Um, because he's gay. And likes dressing in women's clothes. He's talking to her to try because he wants to find out where she bought her dress, so he can purchase one for himself," I giggled. Eric narrowed his eyes at me.

We both watched the man dramatically gesture to the dress, even snapping his fingers. I raised an eyebrow at Eric and he rolled his eyes. I giggled at seeing the thousand-year-old Viking roll his eyes.

"You performed well tonight, Sookie," he said finally. We were on our second round of drinks. Eric had loosened his tie a little, and under the table I had slipped my heels off.

"Thank you," I replied easily, trying to conceal my shit-eating grin but giving up once it grew too big. _Eric complimented me! Eric complimented me!_

"Does your head hurt, from the mind-reading? Are you okay?" Eric asked, tilting his head to look at me. Oh. Guess my grin was a little on the crazy side. Oops.

"Oh, no, I'm fine. Really. Thank you, though," I said easily, trying to tone down the smile. "Actually, you know what? I'm going to go to the bathroom. Excuse me." I slipped into my shoes and finished the rest of my drink.

Eric nodded, and stood up when I stood up to leave. I smiled at him and got out of the booth. I turned around after a few steps, and though Eric had sat down he was still watching me. I quickly turned my head and stepped around all of the mingling people to walk over to the bathrooms.

I forgot everything about bodily functions or bathrooms or Eric—crazy but true—when I saw a familiar blond head in the crowd, bobbing over to the bar. And no, it wasn't Eric. It was Adam.

"Hey! Adam! Hold up!" I cried, walking over to him as quickly as my four-inch heels would allow me.

Before my feet mutinied, Adam stopped and turned around. He was looking good tonight, in gray slacks and a light pink shirt. He pulled it off, and he pulled it off _good_.

"Hi … there," Adam said, smiling a little confusedly. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" His tone was polite, too polite. Like, stranger-polite. Not, I-danced-and-flirted-with-you-last-night polite.

"It's Sookie. Remember? From last night?" I asked, smiling. I guess we really did have too much to drink. "How's your car, by the way?"

"How did you know about that?" He took a couple steps closer to me.

"Uh … because I was there when Longshadow told you someone hit it."

Adam looked even more confused, and I didn't know that was possible. "Longshadow? I'd remember a guy named Longshadow. And I'd definitely remember a woman as pretty as you with a name as original as Sookie."

Now it was my turn to look, and feel, confused. "Really? You don't remember me at all? Or last night? You don't remember the flirting, the dancing, the drinking?"

He shook his head and shrugged. "Last night I stopped to pick up human food to watch a sports game on the television with a companion and someone hit my car in the parking lot. Then I just went home and watched the game by myself."

I smiled nervously. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah."

I peeked into his mind and saw … nothing. There was no actual memory of him going to get "human food" to watch a "sports game on the televsion" with a "companion." The only thing there was the knowledge that he had done that, without any visual evidence.

He was glamoured. Someone glamoured Adam.

Just when I was trying to figure out who, Longshadow appeared at my elbow. Longshadow, who had been watching us all night yesterday. Longshadow, who was the one to tell Adam his car had been hit. Longshadow, who had broken us up. Probably because of Eric's executive order.

How could Eric do that? How could he just glamour someone whose only crime, and it wasn't even a crime, was talking to me, dancing with me, being nice to me—basically doing everything that Eric wouldn't? And wait, forget the glamouring—he destroyed Adam's car. He WRECKED someone's car, just because he could. Sure, maybe he wasn't the one to do the actual glamouring, and he wasn't the one to hit Adam's car, but I'm positive those things happened because he wanted them to happen. And that made him the bad guy, in my book.

"Eric wants to see you, now," Longshadow said. _Yeah, I bet he does_.

"Well, good, 'cause I want to see Eric now! And you! And you!" I said, pointing to both Longshadow and Adam before turning to walk back to the booth.

Eric was staring listlessly at the table when we approached him, and when I called his name he lazily turned his head to look at me. Well, he looked at me for a second, and then he turned his attention to the two guys behind me, his gaze finally settling on Longshadow. His eyes narrowed, and the small smile that he had on quickly disappeared. His whole face tightened when he saw us, really.

"Got anything you want to say?" I asked angrily while crossing my arms.

"If we're going to be having the discussion I think we're going to be having, we need to relocate to my office," Eric murmured, sliding out of the booth. I stepped aside to let him lead, and as he was walking past me he suddenly stopped, inches away from me, and looked directly at Adam.

"You will leave us. Now," he said, staring down on the very confused and very frightened mini-Eric.

"Sure thing, man. No problem," Adam stammered. He took one look at me and then started backing up.

"Run along now," Eric murmured, flicking his hand and smiling slightly as he watched Adam continue to walk backwards until he disappeared into the crowd.

"Very well," he finally said once Adam was gone. Eric turned and started walking to his office, with Longshadow hovering at his shoulder until Eric cocked his head towards the bar, and Longshadow left to attend to the bar. I trailed behind Eric, steaming. But I have to say, I was glad that, in the heat of the moment, I remembered to pick up my clutch from the table.

"So what was that?" I angrily asked as soon as Eric shut the door to his office.

Instead of answering, he offered me a chair but I refused. I was too angry and volatile to remain seated. Apparently he was too. He was now half-standing, half-leaning on the aforementioned chair.

"Your pronoun is too ambiguous for me to answer that question sufficiently."

Huh?

"I took English as a second language at a community college during the '70s," he shrugged.

I tried my best not to get too distracted by that. Eric would have fit right in, with his long hair. Maybe he carried around an acoustic guitar then. Maybe he would have worn … NO. Stay on topic.

"Fine. Where do you get off, glamouring that poor guy and busting up his car? You … you have the conscience of a virus, that's what you have! Think about the damages you've cost him—what if he needed that car? What if he didn't have any money to fix that car? Why the fuck would you do that, Eric—mess with his life?" I replied, recovering quickly.

"It needed to be done," he said, shrugging again.

"That's not gonna cut it, Eric. I need more than that. Why did you do it? What business do you have interfering in Adam's life like that?"

"Your business is my business," Eric replied simply, looking straight at me the whole time.

Maybe later, when I went over this conversation in my head, I'd stop and think more about what those words meant and why Eric said them. But right now, I was way too frustrated to do that.

"Oh, my God. Are you incapable of giving a less vague answer in a sentence containing more than five words?" I said, throwing my hands in the air as I paced back and forth.

"Only when I want to … Sookie," Eric said smugly, smirking as he counted off each word with a finger and smirking the whole damn time. Six words, six fingers.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. So fucking funny, Eric."

"I was just trying to make _this _particular verbal clashing a little more interesting," Eric said in his most innocent-sounding voice, holding his hands up with his palms facing me. "Otherwise, it just gets too repetitive. And I bore easily."

Even though he wasn't being completely sincere and his gesture was corny … it still got to me. Eric and I, we always ended up fighting now. We never fought when he was Amnesiac Eric. No, then we talked and shared and, well, you know. But now … for a brief, shimmering moment we were able to converse freely, even joke around. I _smiled_ tonight with Eric. I _giggled_ tonight with Eric. When was the last time I did any of that with him?

"Yeah, well, since you're keeping track, you probably know that you've been the cause of all of them. The arguments, I mean. We wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't done those things to Adam," I retorted.

"We wouldn't be here right now if _you_ hadn't done those things to Adam," Eric replied silkily, his tone ice cold and disguised by the sexiness of his voice. But even that sexiness couldn't hide the bit of jealousy that his words contained. Eric was jealous. Jealous of Adam, jealous about me. Eric.

Somehow during this whole thing I had somehow managed to get closer to Eric, subconsciously taking steps towards him while talking. And I hadn't noticed it until now, now that I was only a couple Sookie-steps, or two big Eric steps, away from him. But boy oh boy was I noticing it now.

Eric was within touching distance now. I was suddenly hyper aware of how far away from me he was. I knew it, and he knew it too, but neither of us did anything. Well, Eric shifted his body so he was more angled towards me, and I may have had to fist my hands to stop from reaching out to Eric.

There was something in the way he said that last sentence that made me feel … squishy, I guess. His accusation seemed to only highlight the fact that we had a sexual, and more importantly a romantic, history together. In an odd way, Eric talking about me and Adam only made me think about me and Eric. Which totally should not be happening … but here I was, and here Eric was.

"UUUUGGGGHHHH," I cried frustratedly, not knowing how to respond to him, and what he said, and what he was doing.

How was it that I could want him so badly, when he was pissing me off so much? I wanted to kiss him and smack him, in any order.

"Is that human for something?" Eric asked cheekily. AGAIN with the simultaneous liking and hating!

"No. It means … I don't know what it means actually. It's a sound. Sounds don't have to mean anything," I said, making a face and wrinkling my nose at the end of my last sentence.

"Aha. See, that's a sound, and it means something. It's what one says when they understand something."

"Okay, great. What, are we in some, I don't know, scholarly linguistic debate now? What is this, Eric? Make up your mind! Are we arguing, or are we making noises, or are we making noises and then discussing them, or are we …." I stopped, not knowing what else to say. Well, I wasn't going to say "UUUUGGGGHHHH" again, that's for sure.

"Are we what?" Eric murmured, tilting his head and leaning towards me. He suddenly seemed a lot closer to me.

"I … I don't even know," I finished lamely.

"I don't know what we are either," Eric said, gazing down at me with hooded eyes. He opened his mouth slightly, and goddamnit of course I noticed it.

"What? No … I didn't mean it like that. I meant it like, what are we doing?" I replied, looking up at him, my eyes never straying from his face.

"Certainly not each other," Eric said, smiling like a little school boy.

"But I'm sure you have Dawn and a lot of other back-ups, right? You never clearly said you never fucked her last night, you know," I retorted, not wanting Eric to pick up on my feelings about that. Well, I was going in for a penny and out for a pound. I didn't want to hear Eric's response, but at the same time … I would have cut my right hand off to know what he was going to say.

"Dawn, she was too distraught about this Jason. I do not know him, but he's a fucking cockblock. I would have had to glamour her in order to fuck her, and I've never had to do that."

"Fine. What about the others? I'm sure there were others. Maybe are others."

"Back-ups, yes."

"Great. Just, great. Of course you have back-ups. I … I have my own too, you know. Just in case you were wondering," I said, childishly. I know we never said we would be monogamous, even with Amnesiac Eric. But that didn't make it any easier to absorb, the knowledge that Eric had had backups—as in, plural, _multiple_ backups—after me, and I didn't have any.

"I wasn't wondering," Eric said. And then, damn it all, after that I allowed myself to show my emotions. I was fucking ready to cry when he said that. Until, he continued, "Because I know you don't have your own backups."

"What? Are you watching my house? Is that why you said that?" I asked suspiciously, my voice a little higher than it normally is.

"I was your first. You hadn't had any other, and you haven't since," Eric said calmly.

"Uh, thank you for reminding me. Really, thank you. But you never answered if you were watching my house. Just give it to me straight. Are you or are you not watching my house?"

Eric didn't say anything. His silence did.

"That is so unfair, you know that? You know _everything _about me—where I live, what I do for a living, who my boss is. You? I know nothing about you. NOTHING. I hate that you have a leg up, since you know everything about me. It just isn't fair," I whined.

"What are you talking about? If anyone here has a leg up, it's you. You know _everything_ about what happened when I stayed with you—what I was like, what I said, what I did. And no matter how badly I want to know about what happened, I can't remember anything. If you ask me, that isn't fair."

Well then. We just stared at each other for a long time.

"I guess we just gave testimony to the saying that life isn't fair," I said finally, trying to make a joke. It worked—Eric smiled halfheartedly, which was more than enough for me. "You know, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

"Or blood lemonade," Eric added, his smile growing a little larger. Mine did too. A lot larger.

"Yes, or blood lemonade."

We smiled at each other. WHAT?

"Wait. What just happened? We were just arguing like fuck a second ago, and now we're smiling at clichés?" I asked, rubbing my temples to try and ease the mindfuck this night was giving me.

"Sookie, would you like to go back to arguing?" Oh. He did have a point there. Smiling, Eric continued, "I can argue. We can argue about ourselves and our past and present, or we can move on. You know, graduate to global warming, then abortions, and then politics. I could argue for vampire rights. All. Night. Long."

The way he said "All night long," or rather "All. Night. Long," made me think of something else he could do, that I had firsthand knowledge that he could do. All. Night. Long. Damn you, bipolar emotions!

"You know, I never actually went to the bathroom," I said suddenly—and in such an embarrassingly random way—with a smile that died when I remembered why that never happened.

A silence smothered the room, until Eric said, "Of course. Use the employee bathrooms, first door on the left once you turn left out of here."

"Okay. I'll be able to find that, from here," I said. I turned to go to the door, and once I reached it I looked over my shoulder. Eric hadn't moved, but was still looking at me. I smiled nervously and walked out the door, where I did end up finding the staff bathrooms.

I totally wished I didn't when I opened the door and saw a girl vampire, one I didn't recognize, sucking on the neck of a blissed-out looking guy.

She turned around as soon as I opened the door, looking more pissed off than words can convey. Blood was dripping from her mouth, her crouch looked like she was ready to pounce, and her eyes—her eyes were the scariest of all. They were cold and unfriendly and dark and hard.

Two seconds later Eric was behind me, so close I was distracted by this boggling situation because I could sense Eric's closeness to me.

"Taryn!" he thundered, pushing past me. I wasn't the object of his rage, but I was terrified by the way he sounded when he continued, "This is completely unacceptable. You know what the rules are, and you know what happens when you break them."

"Yes, Sheriff, but—"

"No. None of that. You know what you did, and you know what I'm going to do. Sookie, you can go now," Eric said, not taking his eyes off of Taryn.

"Eric—" I said, and then stopped. I wasn't expecting a hand-holding walk to my car or anything like that, but now he just wanted me to go? Just, go?

"Sookie. This night isn't going to end like I wanted, but that is my blood lemonade then, yes? And yours too, now," Eric said earnestly, turning to look back at me. "You should leave. Thank you for your services."

"I … fine. Whatever. It's getting late. See you later, Eric … and, uh, Taryn, I guess," I said awkwardly, even waving my hand stiffly.

"I think you meant see you _soon_, Eric, but it is no matter. Good night," Eric said, with a degree of finality in his voice.

Nodding, I cautiously walked out of the bathroom and back to Eric's office, where I picked up my clutch. I was tempted to try and find the back exit, but I didn't want to risk it now. So I just went back into the club and exited the normal way.

Longshadow wasn't at the bar when I walked past it, and Pam wasn't at the door when I left. I guess the whole thing with Taryn really was as big of a deal as Eric made it out to be.

And what the hell did he mean by see you _soon_? How soon was soon, anyways? Not soon enough, when it came to me and Eric.

...

**A/N: I always wondered if that's part of the reason why Sookie was so hesitant and reluctant to have Jason and Eric officially meet in DTTW—besides the fact that it could be dangerous for Jason.**

**Also ... I think it's pretty safe to say that Bill Compton will be showing up sometime in the next two chapters. JS. *giggles evilly* **


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: What IS this? DTMW update so soon? Yeah. That's right. Yay summer!**

**Just a clarification … when I wrote my A/N last chapter, I meant that Chow DOESN'T die in the witch war in Dead To My World, and in Dead To My World, Clancy does die in the witch war. As I'm doing with a coupla other choice details, there are some things in DTMW that don't happen in DTTW, or don't exactly happen in DTTW. Hope that doesn't confuse you too much! **

**Thanks to chiisai-kitty, who seems to be beta-ing these babies as quickly as I write them. Yee teamwork!**

**Um, I don't fucking own SVM. Yeah. **

…

I hated the long drive to and from Fangtasia. Either coming or going, the miles and minutes on the dashboard seemed to drag on forever, and I usually used the time to reflect on what happened with Eric. Tonight was no exception.

First off, Eric has backups? WHAT THE FUCK? ERIC HAS BACKUPS?

Gran always told me to find the silver lining … but goddamnit, the silver lining to this situation was so small and thin it was fucking anorexic.

But, it was still there. He told me. That's the motherfucking silver lining. He could have been shady and hid it from me. He didn't have to answer me, when I asked. He could have remained silent, or walked away, or made me leave. But he didn't. He answered the question. He told me he had backups, fully knowing the repercussions. He was honest. That counts for something in my book. Don't get me wrong, he didn't do a lot of things right tonight, but at least he was completely honest with me.

And I think I could deal with him having others—past others, that is. Even so, that would be extremely hard and painful, and I'm ashamed to say it'd probably take some time for me to accept, but I think I would be strong enough for it. We never agreed to be exclusive. As much as it sucks to admit that, we didn't. It's not like I was sleeping with Eric, and I found out he was sleeping with other people at the same time. There, another silver lining. BAM.

Maybe I would have found out, eventually. Maybe I would have gone to Fangtasia sometime down the road, and 'heard' someone remembering a recent tryst with Eric. So it was like ripping a band-aid off, kind of. I just got it over with by just ripping the damn thing off. But yeah, it still hurt like hell. On the other hand, this revelation—and revelation it was—was coming from Eric himself, not someone else. And here we go again with the silver lining!

Eric was always direct. And he always told the truth, I felt like. Not many people knew about vampire sheriffs and queens, from what I've found in the minds of the fangbangers. Eric was always thought of as just the hot vampire who sits in the throne. No human had ever thought of him as Sheriff, much less ever called him Sheriff.

But he was called Sheriff tonight, by Taryn. Now, what the hell was that all about? I'm sure Eric would tell me, if I asked. Judging from what I had seen and heard, Taryn was, as Jason would say, "in deep shit" about biting that guys neck at Fangtasia. Maybe you weren't allowed to? That would make sense. I don't know if it was against human law for a vampire to bite someone's neck (although I'm sure it was for humans, so wouldn't it be for vampires too, with the equal rights?) but it seemed like it was definitely against the vampire laws Congress was trying to set up. I hoped it was. The vampires are already feared by some humans, it wouldn't be very tactful for them to run around biting people. I feel like they wouldn't get a lot of support that way. But maybe that's just me.

I experienced yet another shock tonight when I pulled into my driveway and found that Eric beat me home—he was sitting on my porch steps, and I gasped when the head lights revealed him. His car wasn't anywhere to be seen, so he had to have flown over. And he still beat me? That's impressive. I wish I could fly; that would save me so much on gas, especially since I seem to be driving to Fangtasia all the time nowadays.

"Uh … what're ya doing here, Eric?" I hesitantly asked as I walked over to the stairs. He stood up once I neared him, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"I said I would see you soon, and so here I am," he replied, taking a step down.

I found myself looking up at him as I said, more to myself, "So this is how soon 'soon' is. Okay."

"Is my showing up a problem? Do you have other plans?"

Oh, his showing up was a problem. Just not the way he was thinking, most likely. "No. Come on in."

"You rescinded my invitation?" he asked, as he let me walk past him to open the door.

I turned around to stare at him. "No."

"It's just that … you invited me in again. That's why I asked."

"No, that was just me being polite," I said confusedly. Why would he ask that? I knew I rescinded his invitation in the past, but that was in an entirely different situation, for entirely different reasons.

"I thought you might have renounced my invitation, after what happened tonight," he admitted.

I smiled wryly. "You didn't give me enough time to do that."

He grinned in a similar manner. "That was part of the plan, yes."

I finally managed to open the door (got distracted by the thought that Eric came to visit me so soon) and went inside, holding the door open for Eric to come in. He brushed past me, and I mean he _literally_ brushed past me, the soft material of his suit brushing up against my bare arm. Such a small gesture had such a large effect on me. Strange.

I slipped my heels off, and breathed a long sigh of relief once I did. I wriggled my toesies, just to make sure they were all there and weren't totally mad at me for making them be in heels all night after I had walked around on them all day.

"Is there something wrong with your feet?" Eric asked, taking some steps over to me from where he had been standing in the hall. As soon as he approached me, which was too soon for me to reply, he crouched down on his haunches and started peering at my feet.

"What? No I'm fine," I said. Lord knows my feet probably stank after all the work I'd pushed them through today, and Eric was a brave, brave man for sticking his vampire nose pretty close to them.

Eric poked my big toe on my right foot, and then tapped his fingers on it afterwards. "Just checking," he said seriously, looking up at me.

He wasn't expecting me to jump and shout, "AAAHH!" in a knee-jerk reaction, that's for sure.

Eric looked alarmed now. "What? What is it, Sookie?" He sounded very urgent. He put a hand over my entire right row of piggies and moved his fingers slightly, to test my toes, I guess.

I squirmed and reactively put my hands on Eric's head, as if that would push his hands away. "NO! STOP THAT!" I backpedaled away from Eric, who quickly jumped up from his position and was over at my feet again in a vampire second, keeping both hands wrapped around my ankles as he looked up at me, confusion and—dare I say it? A little panic?—in his eyes.

"Sookie, what is going on?"

"You're going to laugh … but my feet are extremely ticklish, as you just found out," I said, ducking my head in embarrassment. Oh my God. Couldn't I just use my stupid feet and stomp on the floor and like fall down into a hole right now? If you ask me, that'd be a more useful superpower for my feetsies to have than to be ticklish.

"Oh really?" he asked, showing off his beautiful shit-eating grin. "I think I'll need to confirm that." He released my ankles and I took the opportunity to jump back again.

"Oh no you don't! Don't you dare, Eric!" I squealed.

"Oh, I dare, Sookie. I dare," he chuckled, getting up and walking over towards me. I speed-walked backwards, and he just continued to walk towards me even more quickly.

I backed into the couch, once my butt connected with the arm rest I quickly toppled over on the couch, my legs now dangling off the aforementioned arm rest. Eric took advantage of my vulnerable state by rushing over and taking a foot in each hand now.

"This little piggy went to Fangtasia," he said, tickling my big toe. I barked out a short laugh and tried kicking my feet like I had flippers on and was swimming in a pool, but his grip never loosened. The only thing that changed was that both of the smiles on our faces got bigger. I had like a retard smile on right now. I hadn't been tickled in years, since Jason was the only one who had ever known about my sweet spot. And Eric was the one tickling me now? No wonder my smile was HUGE.

He cleared his throat before moving on to the next toe and continuing, "This little piggy stayed home." He tickled it, and I squirmed again. Eric's eyes traveled down my body, all the way up to my face, so he knew he had my full attention when he winked and said, "Stupid little piggy's missing out on all the fun."

His fingers found the next toe as he said, "This little piggy drank a lot of blood."

"Really? Blood instead of roast beef?" I giggled, proud I was getting two sentences out, and two sarcastic sentences at that.

Eric shrugged. "Sookie, I am a vampire. What else would I say?"

I burst out laughing, and not just because I was being tickled.

He continued, "This little piggy had none." He looked at me again and shrugged. "He isn't a vampire little piggy, that's why."

I snorted at the thought of a vampire piggy and Eric smiled.

"And this little piggy cried "Wee! Wee! Wee!" all the way home." He moved his shoulders at every "Wee!" and wiggled his eyebrows too.

Once I finished my maniac laughing, I flipper-kicked Eric in the chest and finally freed my feet. He probably let me do it, but whatever, no more tickling.

"There are other piggies, you know," Eric said seriously, gesturing to my other foot. He waited a beat before he smiled slyly. Well, if my toes were piggies, then Eric was a fox. And not just because of his looks.

"Oh, I know. Believe me, I know," I said in response, still chuckling. I stuffed my feet under the seat cushions so he wouldn't get any more ideas. What, I knew there wouldn't be any gross sofa gunk because I cleaned the couch during my mad, crazy cleaning spell after Eric got his memories.

"Woah. Who are you, and what have you done with Eric?" I asked once I calmed down a little. I was only semi-joking too. Seriously. Who was this guy? This was the closest to Amnesia Eric I had ever seen.

Eric shrugged, and sounded a little wounded as he replied, "I can be fun, too, you know."

"I know. I just didn't know you knew." I paused. "That made sense in my mind."

"It made sense in mine too. I understood it," Eric said calmly.

I nodded. "Good. That's good."

Then, now that I wasn't being distracted, I suddenly cried out, "Hey! Wait a second! I'm supposed to be mad at you!"

Eric arched an eyebrow. "Supposed to?"

"Yeah. Because of the backups."

"Ah. The backups."

"Of course! Don't you 'Ah. The backups' me, mister! I still can't believe you had them!"

Now that the mood was a little more serious, I sat up from my position on the couch. I still tucked my feet underneath me though.

Eric came over and hesitantly sat down where my feet had been. Once again, he was a brave, brave man. He put his hands in his lap and looked down at them, his hair falling in front of his profile so I couldn't see what his face looked like.

After a few moments, he shifted in his seat, so his back was now resting on the armrest. He crossed his legs, so they were hanging off of the couch, and he stretched his arms out on the top of the couch, like how a nervous teenage boy would try and put his arm around a girl on a first date. He was angled a little bit away from me, more towards the fireplace, but he was looking right at me.

"What I'm about to tell you … I haven't told anyone. Not even Pam. And I will deny it wholeheartedly if you ever repeat this to anyone," Eric said seriously.

I nodded, worried my voice would crack with emotion now that I knew Eric was sharing with me, when he would share with no one else. He trusted me that much?

"This is like my being the Sheriff of Area Five, or the queen, or what you saw earlier this evening with Taryn. You absolutely cannot tell anyone. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Eric," I replied softly. I wanted to ask about what happened to Taryn, but now was not the time.

Eric paused, and looked away from me for a couple seconds. Then, he turned his head back, and I was hit with the full force of those tropical blue eyes.

"I will only say this once, and as I said earlier I will deny this if it is ever brought up again, but I took backups because I was … confused. Pam said she had never seen me this attached to anyone, ever. She even included herself in that group. Pam, my child!"

He shook his head in disbelief before continuing, "Knowing that was almost as terrifying as knowing that I had been a vulnerable amnesiac without any memories for a week, or knowing there was a week of my entire existence that I will probably never get back. Or, waking up in a strange house with a strange woman that my body knows but my mind doesn't."

Eric sighed deeply. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to act, what to say, what to think. Me, who has over a thousand years of experience, who has always has a plan and then four other backup plans, who always knows what to do, who has always been in charge. And all of a sudden, I wake up, and I have no clue what happened to me. I am powerless and vulnerable in this situation, more vulnerable and powerless than I was as a human. To revert back to that stage, over a thousand years of being strong and in control, was a shock. A huge problem. One that I was at a loss to solve, and that everyone who knew about it was at a loss to solve."

Eric suddenly looked older, even though I knew that wasn't possible. Maybe it was the poor quality of light in the room, or the angle he was facing me, or the angle at which I was looking at him, but he looked like he had aged during this conversation. His mouth was tightly drawn, and there was a certain quality that made his cheeks look hollowed out, and not just because of the cheekbones that were always there.

He continued, "So after countless hours of interrogating and thinking and trying to remember, I reached the conclusion that I needed to, quite frankly, fuck you out of my system. Get rid of you. Eliminate your presence, even if I couldn't remember it."

"Did it work?" I interrupted, holding my breath.

He paused. He was such a Chatty Cathy before, but now he was at a loss for words. Then he found one. The best fucking word on the planet, in my opinion. "No." He looked at me meaningfully.

I gulped. Wow. Just … wow.

He continued, quietly, "I did it to prove to myself, and to Pam, and the other vampires that witnessed our interactions, that you were nothing, that it was nothing, that this entire experience didn't mean anything."

"Did it, though?" I asked softly, clutching a pillow to my chest as I hoped for the best but expected the worst.

"Of course it did. Of course it does. It affects me every night. Each time I rise, the first thought in my head is, 'Will I remember now?' And each time I don't, it gets to me. Every time I see you, I wonder if you'll do something that will trigger my memory. Maybe you will look at me a certain way, or say a certain phrase, or wear a certain outfit, and then that certain something will unclog all of those memories. And I would give anything to remember what it was like, being happy with you; I so desperately want that. I get shadowy glimpses of it now, how being with you might have felt. Like tonight even, with the tickling; those are just wispy fragments that I paw at, fruitlessly. But, they're not enough."

Eric looked up to meet my eyes. "I am greedy. I want everything."

"You're making it awfully hard to do that, you know. The backups put a chink in everything. That was wrong. That was bad. Even though I appreciate you telling me, and you being honest with me, as honest as you are being now … that didn't make it hurt any less," I said truthfully.

He murmured, very quietly, "I don't expect this to mean anything to you, but I have been celibate since the night I went to your house and watched the security tape with you."

Huh. That was well over more than a week ago. That was the first time I had actually gotten along with this Eric, gotten to know him a little better. That was a momentous night for us, in my book. That was when we had our first joke, about me not crying.

So let's put a sex timeline together, then. The night with the video watching was four days after the disastrous first meeting at Fangtasia, when I thought he would never want anything to do with me again. And that first meeting was the night after he first woke up as the New Old Eric. So he had five nights to fuck. Five nights when he didn't really know me, when I was just the woman he only knew he spent time with because everyone told him. That was before he kind of got to know me … again.

"It does mean something. It doesn't make up for what you did, but thank you for telling me. You didn't have to tell me that, either, but I'm glad you did," I replied honestly.

He bowed his head in response. "That includes any fucking, or any sexual activity. I have, however, fed from others after that. Blood only, though. No tricks, no stunts. Just blood. Food. Sustenance." He looked up at me.

"You know what, Eric? I'm surprisingly kind of okay with that. _Kind of_," I replied. It was just food, for him. For me too, now. And it's not like I had given him blood every day that he stayed with me. No, he had been sucking down the red stuff from those hospital bags.

He didn't say anything after that, just nodded seriously and looked at the fireplace again. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm still iffy on the backups, though," I said, like there hadn't been a big gap in between our conversation.

"I understand," Eric said gravely, "and I am saddened that I was the one to make you hurt like that. I … apologize." He met my eyes, briefly, and then looked away.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you apologized to me," I teased, smiling jokingly. I even rolled my eyes at the end, and Eric laughed a little. I got the sense that an apology from Eric was a once-in-a-blue-moon kinda thing. Maybe even a once-in-a-thousand-years kinda thing, even.

"I would not think less of you, if you did." He was more somber now.

"I won't."

"Thank you."

"Eric?" I asked quietly, after another silence came upon us.

"Yes?"

"I could have had backups, if I wanted them," I sniffed.

"I don't doubt that," Eric said very seriously, looking at me the whole time. "Even when I am not myself, I know how to find beautiful women."

"Um, are you complimenting me or you?"

Eric barked out a quick laugh. "Both, I think."

"Oh."

My kitten Tina started coming down the stairs then, and Eric looked over his shoulder. "Ah, yes, I was wondering about that. This is new."

"No, this is Tina," I joked, scooping her up once she cautiously approached my side of the couch. "Eric, this is Tina. Tina, this is Eric."

Tina stared at Eric for a couple seconds before she turned her attention back to nuzzling my arms. Eric stared at Tina for a couple seconds before he turned his attention back to me.

"Why do you have a feline now?"

"I found that I liked having company in the house," I answered simply. The part about how I liked having Eric's company in the house went unspoken.

After a long pause, Eric came up with, "It's a good thing Bubba is visiting Florida right now. He prefers the blood of cats to the blood of humans."

I wrinkled my nose. "Really?"

Eric nodded seriously.

I wondered why he had brought up Bubba. Er, Elvis. It's odd, but I hadn't really thought of Bubba in a while. Guess my mind had been a little preoccupied since then.

Wait, did Eric bring up Bubba because it was the only thing he could talk about, when discussing a cat? That had to be it, didn't it? It's not like Fangtasia was a very cat-friendly place. Eric was trying. No, he was doing more than trying. He was doing.

Tina hopped off of my lap, and wandered into the kitchen. I listened to her lap at the water in the bowl. Eric did too.

I looked at the clock. It was still early, for Eric, but late for me.

Eric followed my gaze, and then he murmured, "I should be heading back to Fangtasia now, to deal with Taryn."

"Oh, yeah. What was up with that?"

"There's supposed to be no feeding on the premises at Fangtasia, especially not with the wandering eyes of the local police and the trepidations humans already have about our kind. Taryn's been a bit of a problem, lately. She learned from her mistakes last time, as she was now feeding in the employee/vampire-only section of the club. But, part of her punishment from the last time she was caught feeding was that she couldn't do it at Fangtasia for two months." He paused, and raised an eyebrow as he continued, "I made that decision last week."

"Oh."

"I haven't had time to think up a new punishment for her. Obviously the last one wasn't harsh enough for her. She's with Longshadow and Pam now. They're holding her until I return," Eric said conversationally.

"What are you going to do?" I asked curiously.

Eric sighed. "I'm not quite sure, at the moment. I tried being easy with her, but now I think I was too easy. Perhaps I'll take her fangs out. That will teach her a lesson."

"But fangs are your everything!" I blurted out. "How will she eat?"

"However she does it, she won't be doing it at Fangtasia. That's all I care about."

"Doesn't that seem a little harsh?"

"Not when I threatened Taryn with that last week. If she doesn't care about her fangs, then I certainly don't."

I knew Eric was probably in his jurisdiction, both as the owner of Fangtasia and the Sheriff of Area Five, but that sentencing didn't sit well with me.

"Maybe your punishment wasn't too public," I said, thinking out loud.

"Explain," Eric said, furrowing his brows. "If the punishment is too public, then the reason for why there even needs to be punishment will need to be public too. And that can't happen."

"I know, I know," I replied. "But, maybe you should have her start waiting tables or fetching drinks or something. Something in the club, where the other vampires will see her doing it. From what I've seen and heard, vampires are a mighty proud bunch—I've never seen a vampire waitress at Fangtasia, too. So that way, she'll remember this particular punishment more than she did the last time, because there will be many others to remind her of it. You keep saying how you can remember every day you've ever lived, except for the ones when you lived with me. So I'm guessing that the humiliation of having to do such a menial human job will stay with her for a long time, and maybe she would be more inclined to think of that the next time she sees a pretty boy at Fangtasia. Something tells me her pride would take longer to recover than her fangs."

Eric stared at me. I blushed under the silence. Did he think it was totally stupid, my plan? Oh God, was he going to laugh at me? Of course he was going to laugh at me. Why wouldn't he? That was such a crappy plan.

"That just might work," Eric murmured thoughtfully. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head now.

"What now?" I asked, so shocked I was surprised I could manage those two words.

"Thank you, for your input and advice. I will consider it."

"Just call me Dear Sookie," I joked weakly. Eric smiled, catching on.

"Well, now I definitely must be going. I need to go over this recent development with Pam and Longshadow. And of course, Pam will be very pleased to hear you made a Dear Abby joke. Not that she needed another reason to like you more than any other human she'd never fucked or fed from." Eric's smile broadened. "She's oddly protective of you, you know. She called me a turd when she found out I told you I had others."

"She's right," I said, smiling. Pam calling Eric a turd? "How on Earth did you respond to that?"

"I left the room and came right to you."

Ah. Now, how on Earth do I respond to that? I didn't. We festered in silence for a while, and then Eric decided he had enough.

He uncrossed his legs and made to stand up. I quickly stood up with him. We both started walking to the front door at the same time, and when we realized that we both stopped. Eric spread his hands wide and gestured past him as he said, "Ladies first."

I felt him place a gentle hand on the small of my back as I stepped past him. It was a lover's caress, something that I had always seen boyfriends do when they let their girlfriends walk ahead of them to their table at Merlotte's. And now Eric was doing it to me.

I felt the coolness of his touch, and then I felt it removed a few moments after I was fully past Eric. We walked in silence, me ahead of him, until we reached the front door and I turned around to face him.

"Well," I said, opening the door. "Have a safe flight."

"Thank you. I will." But he didn't move, and neither did I. I was still looking up at him, and he was looking down at me, and then he was looking down at me but not too much, as he bent down to give me a peck on the cheek. His lips lingered, and I was glad he couldn't see the shocked expression on my face. My mouth was open and my eyes were bulging and I probably looked like a giant frog, but none of that mattered because Eric was kissing me.

Eric—kissing me? On the cheek, sure, but this was the first time he had kissed me since he got his memories back. Hell, this was the closest he had been to me since he got his memories back. And here he was, unprompted, kissing my cheek. Longer than you would normally kiss someone's cheek, even if you were French or something.

Then it was all over way too soon, and too innocently. It seemed that the feel of his lips on me was too much for my body to handle. I was ready to collapse or jump him, two opposite ends of the spectrum.

Eric didn't give me a chance to make up my mind, as he murmured, "Good night, Sookie," and stepped out the door. I followed him out in shock, stopping to lean in the doorway as I watched him saunter down the stairs. I wanted to cry out to him, make him stop walking, unless it was to walk back to me. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he was already nowhere to be seen, having lifted up into the night sky as soon as he went off the last step.

I went back inside and closed the door, and leaned against it as soon as it was set in place. Holy hell, what a night. What. A. Night.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Thanks to chiisai-kitty, who is continuing to impress the hell out of me with her super speedy beta skillz. You da beta bomb!**

**And also, thanks to CH for these characters. They ain't mine.**

...

I heard a ringing, and I kept hitting my alarm clock, but the ringing still continued. I reluctantly opened an eye and saw the phone on my nightstand. Huh. So he was the culprit.

Sighing, I reached over and fumbled with the phone. "Hello?" I croaked.

"Hey Sook, it's Jase," Jason said cheerfully. What the fuck? Jason was waking _me_ up? Was I still dreaming?

"Oh, hey Jason. What's up?" I asked groggily. I rolled over on my stomach so I could see the clock better—whaaa? It was ten in the morning? Well, Jason waking me up by calling me at ten in the morning certainly was a hell of a wake-up call.

"Nothin' much. You left me a message, so I'm just callin' ya back."

"Oh yeah … so, I was wondering, how are you coping with the whole Dawn thing? She kind of filled me in at work. How are you holding up?"

"Eh, not too bad. You know, plenty of other fish in the sea … some I've already caught, if ya know what I mean."

I choked back a gag; Jason was such a man-whore. "Yeah. So, listen, what time is your lunch break? I was thinking you could swing by here and I could fix us some sandwiches, since we haven't seen each other in a while," I replied.

"Um … lemme see ... how does twelve sound for ya?" Jason asked.

"Works for me! Come hungry."

He laughed. "Oh c'mon now, you know I always do. Later, Sooks."

"Bye, Jason."

I hung up. What a way to start a morning. Sheesh.

I rolled back and wrapped my arms around a pillow. Even though it was ages ago, I still couldn't get over what happened last night. And that kiss. _That kiss_. It made me feel so—

The phone rang again, and I picked it up in an annoyed huff. I was replaying Eric's kiss in my head, damnit!

"Hello?" I asked, more crossly than politely.

"Hey, it's Tara. Sorry, did I wake you?"

I immediately thought, _"Nope. Jason already took care of that for you." _But that wasn't her fault.

"No, it's fine," I said quickly, feeling guilty for snapping at Tara because of something she didn't do. "What's up?"

"I was just calling to see how last night went. Which dress did you end up picking again?"

"I went with the purple," I answered.

"Oh, good. You looked totally do-able in that dress. But you know I didn't call just because of that, silly." She giggled. "So c'mon, spill. How did last night at Fangtasia go?"

How did last night at Fangtasia go? Well, last night at Fangtasia sucked ass. I found out Eric had slept with other women, glamoured a guy, and then purposely destroyed his car simply because he danced with me. But last night, at my house? That was pretty fucking amazing.

"Um, last night started out a little rocky, but it ended on a _really _good note," I said truthfully. I had been so stressed about clothes and time yesterday that I had promised to tell Tara about my date and why I needed to go to Fangtasia the next day. Which was today. At ten in the morning. Oy.

I ended up telling her that I had met up with the vampire at Fangtasia, and I had a lot of fun with him.

"Where did you meet him, anyways?"

Well, that threw me for a loop. "Um, I saw him on a walk, and I stopped to talk to him." What? It was true!

"Really? That's … quaint. But what was Fangtasia like? I've never been to a vampire bar. Hell, I've never even seen a vampire!" she laughed. I laughed with her. That's exactly how I sounded, pre-Eric.

"You have to see it to believe it. I'm not even kidding!" I answered. But I still described its décor, and what I did with Eric (we just had a few drinks and talked. That was still true!)

"Did he bite you?" she asked excitedly.

_Yes, but not last night_.

"Last night? No," I answered, feeling sneaky. I didn't like being this evasive, but I couldn't tell Tara everything. I just couldn't.

We chatted a bit more on girly date stuff, like when I was going to see Eric again (I told her I didn't know) or what I was going to wear the next time I saw him (depended on what we were doing) or how much I liked him (when she pushed me on that question, I finally admitted I was falling hard for him … I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be in the past or present tense, to be honest).

After that we said our goodbyes and I went to work showering and getting ready for Jason's arrival. Hell, I even moved the couch all by myself, just so it would seem like I really was doing some rearranging, like I told him I was. I snorted at the memory. Oh, I did some rearranging, just not with my house.

I started preparing lunch—nothing fancy, just some cold cuts for sandwiches, and some potato chips and snack-y things like that—when I heard Jason's truck pull in the driveway. About twenty seconds later I heard the front door open, and I put down the paper plates I had been setting so I could walk to the hallway and meet Jason halfway, which I did.

"Hey Sook! Saw you moved the couch. TV looks like it's in the same spot. Either way, the house is looking real good," Jason said.

I smiled and went in for the hug, something we normally didn't do. Like, ever. But, I hadn't seen Jason in a while, and even if he didn't seem to sorry about Dawn, I certainly was. I felt so guilty about that, like I was partly responsible for breaking them up. But it's not like I went ahead and asked Jason to be vampire-phobic, now did I? No. But if it wasn't for me, he'd still be with Dawn, maybe.

"Oh, uh, hey now," Jason said awkwardly, shooting me a weird look after I pulled away from the hug. I was probably the only girl he's ever felt weird about giving a hug. Lucky me.

"Yeah, it's just that it's been a while, and, uh, it's really good to see you," I explained lamely. "I got cold cuts for lunch—ham, turkey. It's just about ready, so we can go in the kitchen and eat."

"Sounds good." He followed me in, his work boots making more noise than my bare feet. I winced hearing his scuffing. Boys.

After we got our sandwiches all fixed up, we sat down at the kitchen table and talked. A tree had fallen over and was blocking Mayberry Road, so Jason and the rest of his road crew spent the morning getting rid of it so that the road would be driveable. Nothing out of the ordinary for him, he said.

What was curious was the twenty-minute phone conversation Jason had with Maudette Pickens, the one he hadn't actually told me about, but was going over with in his mind. I was kind of glad he hadn't talked about that conversation, because it was pretty graphic, especially from Maudette's end, which was news to me. She had been in the same class as me in high school, and now I only saw her occasionally whenever I went to the Grabbit Kwik gas station and convenience store that she worked at, but I never would have thought that the solid, plain-looking Maudette would have the stones to say some of the stuff she said to Jason about what they would do later tonight, once she got off of work. My cheeks burned just thinking about it.

"You okay? Those peppers too hot for you?" Jason joked, pointing to the jar of banana peppers on the table.

I took a bite of my turkey sandwich and mumbled, "Yeah." Better for him to think that.

I asked Jason what he was doing later tonight, and he breezily admitted that he would be meeting up with Maudette. Apparently, he'd seen her the night after he ended things with Dawn, and they'd been "hanging out" ever since. Ugh. Note to self: never say you've been "hanging out" with someone in front of Jason EVER AGAIN.

I used that opportunity to bring up Dawn again, because I was curious, and hesitant, to hear Jason's reply, straight from the source. It worried me that I had a brother that was so anti-vampire, when I was … clearly not.

"Dawn? She's a great gal. It's just that, well, we didn't really see eye-to-eye on the fact that she'd been with vampires and wanted me to go drive like a half hour away to a damn vampire bar." He shook his head and started making himself another sandwich.

I pushed my plate away so I could rest my elbows on the table. "What's so bad about vampires? Have you ever even met one?"

"No!" Jason replied stubbornly, bits of bread and meat spewing out of his mouth. "They're unnatural, that's what. They've been unnatural to me."

"Jason, that's not good enough of a reason," I said exasperatedly. Hell, that wasn't even a reason in my book.

He shrugged. I continued, "So come on, what is it that you've got against vampires?"

"Christ, I don't know, Sookie … they're vampires! They've been around for God knows how long, and they wait until now to come out of the coffin so they can fuck all the women I want to fuck? How the hell am I supposed to compete with someone who has an endless supply of stamina in bed? They have more of a reputation with ladies than I do!"

I peeked in his mind, and saw that he was telling the truth. Ahh. So Jason was jealous. Did this feeling come before or after Dawn? Now that I thought about it, Jason and I had never really sat down and talked about vampires, besides from when they first announced their presence to the world. But even then it was like, "Hey, did you know vampires are real? Yeah? Okay then. Here, have some sweet tea."

But Jason was also scared about vampires, not that he would ever admit it to me, or even himself, from what I gathered from his thoughts. He knew he didn't know much about the world, and he could handle that. What he couldn't handle was living his life, minding his own business and thinking vampires were around just so Buffy could look hot, and then having his world go upside down when he found out vampires were really real.

"I'm sure once you get to know one, you'll end up changing your mind. How can you hate something you know nothing about? And by the way, do you even realize how dumb it is to hate an entire group of people just because they're good at sex?" I replied.

Jason jutted his chin out. "Know what? I don't care. Why are you spazzing out about this?"

Well, that stumped me. Should I tell Jason about Eric? I wanted to. Oh, God, I wanted to. He was the only family I had now. And we didn't have secrets. Not even about my telepathy, even if we didn't discuss it.

But the thought of me telling Jason that I'd slept with a vampire, that I might be falling in love with a vampire, that a vampire stayed in the same house as me as a quasi-roommate—and that, oh, hey, he was the same vampire that slept with Dawn and owned the very club she tried to drag Jason too—made me feel queasy.

I realized I had been quiet for way too long, and Jason would most definitely have picked up on it. I was right. He was still staring at me.

"It's just that … vampires are people too, Jason! Even if they were humans a long, long time ago. You shouldn't have to lose all your rights just because you died," I said, chickening out of telling him. "And how can you hate something you don't understand, or dislike something you've never seen or experienced? That's what's unnatural, if you ask me."

"Look, Sookie, I gotta get going or else I'm gonna be late for work. Let's just agree to disagree or whatever, okay? Thanks for lunch." Jason said, pushing his chair back.

Well, at least he was telling the truth and he really did need to be back at work by 12:30, I heard. I couldn't bear the thought of Jason leaving me just because I didn't hate vampires.

"I–what? Oh. Okay. Bye, then. Listen, Jason … we should do this again sometime," I said, getting out of my seat and following after him.

He turned around after he opened the front door. "Lunch? Sure. Why not?" He grinned lopsidedly and then he was gone.

I walked back to the kitchen and distracted myself by focusing on cleaning up from our lunch. Of course Jason would leave before I could get him to at least throw out his paper plate.

…

Almost five hours later I was out of my kitchen and in Merlotte's kitchen, ready to work my shift until around one in the morning. Funny how Sam always seemed to be giving me the night shifts nowadays.

I had debated leaving Eric a message at Fangtasia, but I didn't know what I would say. "Hi, you kissed me on the cheek last night, just checking in?" But the timing was off, since by the time Eric would be able to get my message I would be work, and Eric didn't have the number at Merlotte's. Well, actually I guess Pam did, since she had called Sam here before, but maybe Eric wouldn't know I was working tonight.

Eric. Would I be the first thing he thought about when he woke up, like he said I was? Would he call my house and wonder why I wasn't picking up and maybe wonder where I was? Go to my house to check in on me?

Now wasn't the time to wonder. Not when I had tables to clean, people to please, and food to fetch. And I had to do it all while running around with a smile on my face, since tonight was running a little busier than normal and there were a lot of minds that I didn't want to read.

But boy oh boy, I took time to notice the vampire that came in around nine o'clock.

The vampire that sat down in my section and looked right at me as he did so.

The vampire that looked pale, but no one seemed to notice that he was, in fact, a vampire.

The vampire who wasn't Eric.

...

**A/N: I KNOW I KNOW it's kinda a baby chapter. But don't worry. Next chapter is a daddy of a chapter. I'm almost done writing it, so that will be up in a matter of days. Maybe sooner, depending on the reviews! I can't thank you enough for them. They inspire me so much!**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Thank you chiisai-kitty and Charlaine Harris! You can always tell what my favorite chapters are because they're the ones with the shortest A/Ns. HAH.**

...

I stopped right in my tracks. Hell, I'd say that I stopped dead in my tracks, but I didn't think the vampire would appreciate it.

Not that he'd notice. He was staring at me so closely you'd think I was holding a gun to his head. Well, maybe if I had a gun with silver bullets.

He was handsome to look at; if I was going to be impolite and stare, I was glad it was at something easy on the eyes. He was smaller than Eric, both in size and height, but he was still big. He had brown eyes that were nothing like Eric's, and short, side-combed brown hair that was nothing like Eric's long blonde locks. In fact, he was nothing like Eric. Yes, he was a vampire, and Eric was a vampire, but that was pretty much it.

Did Eric send this vampire, whoever he was? I hadn't seen him at Fangtasia, even when Pam had all the vampires come in for the supe meeting. Then again, I had been a little distracted that night. Maybe I was right; maybe Eric had wondered where I was, and he sent this vampire out to Bon Temps. But why? Eric seemed to have no problem coming to Bon Temps, especially when I wasn't expecting it. I feel like he would have come out to check up on me himself, not send this … this henchman to do his job.

But evidently, Eric didn't feel that way, since he wasn't here and this vampire was. Wait a second—was I being completely vain in thinking the only reason why this vampire was here was because of me? But Bon Temps had never had a vampire in it that I knew of; technically speaking, Eric would have been the town's first vampire, since he was the one running down that road all those days ago. And I definitely knew about that.

Why else could this vampire be here, then? Just, to be here? Passing through? On his way to Fangtasia, maybe? Bon Temps wasn't a particularly enticing town. Even the people living here didn't want to be here. Why would a vampire?

Well, whatever the reason, he's here. Now. Sitting down, in my section. I had to go serve him. That means I had to talk to him. Should I ask him about Eric? Shit, will he be able to smell Eric's blood? He would, right? Pam did, the night of the witch war—that's how she knew Eric and I had shared blood, because she smelled it. Would he be able to smell Eric on me, period? Surely if a vampire could tell if you had someone's blood, they would also be able to tell if you touched him or her. Right?

By that time Sam had noticed that I was standing still (I also happened to be standing by the bar, as I'd been getting ready to pick up the drink order for the family of four in booth eight) and he wandered over to me.

"You know him?" he asked, nodding in the vampire's direction. The vampire was now lost in thought, staring at the table like he was trying to glamour it into submission.

I shook my head. "Never seen him before."

"You want me to go over there?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," I said airily, picking up my tray. "But that's mighty kind of you to offer, Sam. I appreciate it."

"I'll be here, cher, if you need me."

I nodded and put on the smile I wore that never failed to cover up what I was really feeling.

After disposing of the drinks, I wiped my hands on my little half-apron. This was it. I squared my shoulders and started walking towards the vampire with my head held high.

And just like that, all of a sudden I was over at his booth. I stopped a little farther away than I normally do while waiting tables. What, it's not like he was going to have trouble hearing me or anything like that.

His eyes snapped up to mine, and I was surprised by the deep, rich chocolately color. I could get lost in those eyes, I knew that. The nostrils of his arrow-straight nose flared slightly, and it was then that I knew he was smelling me. And by smelling me, he was also smelling Eric, or maybe, Eric's blood. His intense stare gave it away. He knew. Oh boy, he knew.

"Hi, did Eric send you?" I asked nervously, shifting my weight on my feet. I smiled my crazy smile again.

"Eric Northman?" he asked back, raising his eyebrows. Not one eyebrow, like Eric (and Pam and maybe his other associates), but both. And, he didn't reply directly to me. Answering a question with a question was never a good sign, especially when a vampire was doing the re-questioning.

Fuck.

"Yeah. You know him?" I asked. ..._Please say yes. Oh, random-ass vampire, please say yes_.

"I do," he said. A bit stiffly, I thought. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him about Eric.

Double fuck.

"Huh." I smiled nervously. I was so over my head.

The vampire didn't say anything. He just looked blankly at me. He wasn't trying to glamour me, because I couldn't feel that familiar tingling sensation that occurred whenever someone turned their glamour eyes to me. But his eyes didn't leave my face, not even when I cleared my throat.

"Um, so what can I get you?" I asked, hands shaking as I reached down in my mini-apron to take out a mini-notebook and a regular-sized pen.

"Do you have that synthetic blood?" he drawled in a low voice.

I shook my head. "No, and I'm so sorry. Sam just put an order in, though. I think he said it would be in next week." Even though I didn't say much, I felt like I was rambling.

"Then red wine, please," he replied, his eyes traveling up the length of my body to finally meet up with mine.

I laughed out loud. "A vampire comes into a bar and orders a glass of red wine? That sounds like the beginning of a bad joke."

"Maybe it is," the vampire conceded with a small smile. Well, that shut me up.

"Don't mind Crazy Sookie none, mister. She's always like that."

A familiar voice came from the booth next to the one I was standing in front of. It was coming from Mack Rattray, who was here with his equally rude and white-trash wife, Denise. In my head, I always referred to them as the Rat Couple, because that's what they were: rats. I always made it a point to stay out of people's minds, and that _definitely _came true for the Rattrays. Mack was always thinking these nasty, dirty thoughts about me, all the while sitting next to his wife, and Denise thought I was pathetic. I was pretty kumbaya when it came to people, but I _hated _the Rattrays. They always seemed to sit in my section, and they always seemed to catch me on an off night. Tonight was no exception.

"Right. Well, let me go get you that red wine," I said to the vampire, much more cheerfully than I felt.

He dipped his head a bit, and I scurried off to the bar as quickly as I could without seeming too conspicuous. I could feel his gaze from the back, and Sam's from the front, and I didn't like either one of them.

"Sam, Eric didn't send him! At least, I don't think he did," I hissed as soon as I made it behind the bar. "He wants a glass of red wine, by the way."

I snuck a glance at the vampire while I waited for the wine; he was only mildly interested in what Mack was saying. Mack had climbed out of the booth and was now standing where I used to be standing, only now the vampire wasn't looking at him like he had been at me. In fact, he wasn't even looking at Mack; he had reverted to staring at the table.

"Here ya go," Sam said, sliding the wine glass towards me. I realized there wasn't as much wine in that as there should be, but I didn't say anything to Sam. It's not like the vampire was going to drink it, right?

I smiled gratefully and placed it on my tray, getting ready to walk back to the vampire's booth.

"Hold up a minute, Sookie. Talk to me. So, Eric didn't send him, is that what you said?" Sam asked.

I nodded. "Well, he knows who Eric is, but he didn't directly reply. I don't know if I should ask him again, though."

"If Eric sent him, then I'm sure he'll find a way to mention it in a conversation or something," Sam said reasonably. I nodded. That made sense.

Feeling somewhat better, I walked back to the vampire's booth. Mack didn't move when I approached, and I had to politely excuse myself to be able to set the red wine down on a coaster in front of the vampire.

"We're gonna need another pitcher of beer here," Mack drawled lazily, turning his head to look at me.

He was my height, which at 5'5" wasn't saying much for him. He had a round head with closely shaved hair, and he was wearing a stained white tee shirt, ripped jeans, and dirty work boots. His wife Denise hadn't fared much better, dressed to the nines in a pair of black short shorts and a flashy orange-red-and-yellow halter top. She wasn't really pretty, but she was so flashy it kind of distracted you from figuring that out right away. She was lounging in the Rat's booth, checking her makeup in a pocket mirror.

There was so much I wanted to say to the vampire, but I couldn't do anything about it now that Mack was here. Instead, I nodded and turned sharply on my heel to go over to the bar again.

Sam was in the same spot he had been last time, but now Arlene was leaning against the bar with him.

"Would ya look at that?" I said, siding up next to Arlene so all three of us could watch Mack sit down across from the vampire, and Denise stroll over to sit next to vampire.

"I don't know much about vampires, but this one musn't be very smart if he's hanging out with trash like the Rats," Arlene said comfortingly. Even though she didn't really know about my telepathy and how that was kind of the reason why I hated that couple, she knew I couldn't stand the Rats. "But, look now, Denise is giving him quite the show."

Indeed she was. Denise had put her brown poofy hair into a poofier ponytail; all the better to show off her neck to the vampire, I guess. Even now she was stroking her neck, like she had an itch there or something. What a bitch. I knew better, even if maybe the vampire didn't. He seemed more interested in that neck than what Mack was saying.

Since Sam seemed too busy studying the vampire, I went behind the bar and filled up a pitcher of beer. I walked back to the vampire's booth again and just set it down on the table. I didn't bother to bring over the glasses from the Rattray's old booth; there was no way in hell I was going to do that. It's not like the Rattrays were good tippers to begin with.

"That'll be all," Denise said, looking at the vampire. She was thinking that maybe she ought to try moving her neck some more, to get him to notice her. And Mack, Mack was thinking about what sex with me would be like if I was a vampire. Ick.

"Right. Just holler if you need anything," I said, looking at the vampire. He stared up into my eyes, or at least he did until he broke it off to take a look at the hand Denise had just put on his brown suede coat.

One of my customers at the table a couple ways over had called out to me, so I excused myself and went over to attend to him. Then the night started picking up, and there were so many plates to bring and ketchups to get and people to serve that I barely had time to think straight, let alone think about the vampire and the Rattrays.

All that stopped when I happened to have a free moment at the bar, as I waited for Lafayette to finish cooking an order, and I turned my attention to that booth. I saw Mack staring at the vampire so avidly I thought he was the one with the glamouring skills. What was this? I took a peek in his mind.

The Rattrays had been in jail once—for vampire draining.

The Rats were vampire drainers. And they were at a booth now with a vampire. Shit.

There was supposed to be a huge market for vampire blood. It was supposed to be better than Viagra, for anyone who took it. It was the most popular drug of our time, and as I'd just found out from looking in Mack's mind, there was a lot of money to be made from pure, undiluted vampire blood. In the past, the Rats had been able to sell it for $200 an ounce.

They'd killed vampires before, the Rats. You'd kind of have to, I'd expect, because the vampire would be very pissed afterwards. Drainers, and the Rats included, would stake or dump the vampire out in the open, so they'd be outside when the sun came out.

I blinked and turned to look for Sam, at the other end of the bar. Sam would know what to do. I could always count on him. But he wasn't there. I looked back at the booth, and they were gone. The vampire, Denise, Mack … gone. I looked and saw the front door closing. They must have just left.

I took a final look around for Sam, who was still nowhere to be found. Fine, it'd just be up to me now.

I sprinted out the employee entrance, so I'd be in the back of the parking lot, closest to Sam's trailer. I saw a random chain on the ground in front of it, so I ran over and picked that up. Sure, it'd be a lot easier if he had a gun or a sword or, hell, even a bow and arrow lying around instead of a chain, but beggar's can't be choosers.

With the chain feeling unfamiliar and scary in my hand, I quietly, but quickly, tiptoed through the parking lot, keeping an eye out for any sudden movements. I saw the Rattray's dented red sports car, so I knew they were still here. I fished for any nearby thoughts, and I found them then; both Mack and Denise were busy thinking about how much money they were going to earn from this vampire's blood.

In fact, they were so busy that they didn't hear me creep up behind them. The vampire was lying on the ground on the spot where the parking lot met the surrounding woods; his back was on the ground, and there were silver chains across his neck and around his ankles and wrists. His face was contorted in agony, but he wasn't screaming. There were already two plastic containers of blood lying by Denise's feet as she crouched next to the vampire. She tightened the crude makeshift tourniquet she had fixed around his arm.

Their backs were to me, and the vampire hadn't seen me yet, so I tried to uncoil the chain as quietly as I could while I figured out my next move. Both Denise and Mack were squatting next to the vampire, but Mack was closest to me. I guess he would be the first for me to go for.

I had no clue what I was doing as I jumped out from behind the pickup truck I had taken cover behind; I swung the chain in a way that hopefully made it seem like I knew what I was doing, like I had attacked vampire drainers loads of times before and it was no big deal. The chain thwacked the back of Mack's head with a loud satisfactory thud, and he immediately put a hand on the already-red spot where I hit him.

He screamed and jumped up; Denise took a glance and went back to working on getting the needle in the vampire again. She thought Mack would be able to take care of me in no time.

With that encouraging thought, I geared up, ready to take another lucky swing at Mack. But his hand went to his boot and he came up with a pocket knife.

I couldn't help it. I said, "Uh-oh."

"You crazy bitch!" he screamed, taking a step towards me with the knife. I was too involved to keep my shields up, and I could see what he was planning on doing to me. With that in mind, I was able to dodge his swipe and somehow managed to swing the chain around his neck at the same time. Mack instantly dropped the knife and brought his hands up to his neck, pawing frantically at the chain wrapped around it. I didn't know what I did, but somehow that chain got coiled around his neck so tightly I could tell it wouldn't be coming off for a while, no matter how hard Mack clawed at it.

Shit, there goes Sam's chain. But then I swooped down to pick up the knife, and I'm lucky I did it at the time I did because all of a sudden Denise was right there. I held it up like I knew what I was doing with it, like I was going to stab her at any time, and she stopped walking.

She swore at me, calling me all sorts of names that I would never, ever call anybody. I waited until she was done to growl, "Leave. Now."

Denise stared at me for a second before she made a move to pick up the containers of blood.

"Oh, no, you don't," I hissed, shaking my head. "You're leaving those here."

She threw an angry glance my way and then walked over to Mack, pulling him to his feet and directing her hate and frustration towards him. He was still wheezing and gasping for air in these awful gurgling sounds, but she seemed more concerned with getting him to their car than making sure he was okay.

Once they were out of the way I scurried over to the vampire to inspect the damage the Rats had done. They had taken a long, silver chain, or many chains by the looks of it, and seemed to have wrapped it around any available skin they could find, except for the vampire's face, which was still contorted in pain but now had shock added to it.

Then I heard a car roar to life, and I realized that the Rats now had a new weapon, one that could do more damage than Mack's knife. I rushed behind the vampire and hoisted him up with my arms as I yelled, "Push with your feet!" We were still kind of on the road, but we were so close to the protection that the trees and woods would provide. The vampire caught on, and I was able to drag him into the woods, and not a moment too soon; the Rats' car zoomed by, and Denise had missed us by a matter of feet before she had to swerve to not hit a pine. I was worried that the car would then go in reverse, to try to get us a second time, but instead it just went full-speed ahead.

The vampire managed to prop himself up against a tree, and I crouched down awkwardly next to him. I didn't know what to do, but I did know that I hadn't yet taken off the silver chains around him, so I got to work on that. Even though it wasn't my skin that was smoking as soon as the silver was taken off, I winced, especially when I heard the little hissing noise the action made. I met his eyes, and he was looking as intently at me as I was at him.

He didn't say anything, but merely watched as I removed all of the silver. I wondered how the Rats had been able to put this much silver on him so quickly, but I blushed when I came to the conclusion. He hugged his knees to his chest as I worked on getting rid of the silver wrapped around his ankles, under his jeans legs. His coat was off in the dirt nearby, and he was now wearing a plain off-white long-sleeved waffle shirt, with two undone buttons at the collar.

"I am so sorry I didn't get here sooner," I said, gamely trying to break the silence that was blanketing us. He just looked at me. "Um, you'll be fine in like a minute or two, right? You're going to be able to heal yourself?"

He nodded but didn't actually say anything.

"Um, do you want me to leave?" I stuttered.

That got him to talk. In a gruffer voice, he answered, "No. They might come back, and I haven't yet healed properly."

Oh. Well then.

I stood up and took a couple steps back. Knowing how unpleasant it feels to have someone staring at you when you're vulnerable, I busied myself with wrapping the silver around my neck, and walking over to the edge of the clearing to watch the parking lot.

After a few moments, I heard the unmistakable rustle of someone moving in the woods. I looked to my left, and there he was, standing a little too close for comfort. He didn't say anything at first, just looked at me with those big brown eyes. His skin had stopped smoking, which I'm sure was a good sign.

"Thank you," he said, after a while. He didn't sound particularly thankful, but more like he was saying thank you because he knew he was supposed to. I reckoned he wasn't too happy about being rescued by a woman. Typical guy.

I nodded my head. "You're welcome. But like I said earlier, I'm sorry it kind of took me a while to come out here to help you."

"That's quite alright; after all you did come out here, all alone, to rescue me. It was very brave," he said in a low seductive voice.

"Now you cut that out right now, mister," I said quickly, putting an end to _that_. It's not likeI need another vampire to know I can't be glamored.

He had the gall to look surprised, almost as surprised as he did when he saw me take down Mack, but then he wiped his face clean. "Aren't you afraid to be out here alone in the dark with a hungry vampire?"

"Not really," I said, playing with the silver chains around my neck. "I was more afraid of Mack, to be honest."

He looked astonished by that statement, but he tried to cover it by replying, "Are you assuming that because you saved me that you are safe, that I still harbor an ounce of feeling and good-will after all these years as a vampire? Vampires often turn on those who trust them."

_Oh, don't worry. I know ALL about that._

"Yeah, well, humans often turn on those who trust them too," I said tartly. "And besides, I have some insurance. Silver insurance." I tapped the chains again, bringing them to cover my arms now.

He looked me up and down and finally came up with, "There is a juicy artery in the groin that I am fond of."

That settled it. He couldn't have been sent by Eric. No sirree. Going from Eric's jealous streak, which had made itself very apparent after the whole Adam thing, I was pretty sure he wouldn't want this vampire to be speaking to me like that.

"Don't you talk dirty to me, mister. I won't stand for it," I said tartly.

We were stuck in silence again, with me silently working up the courage to ask this vampire, whoever he was, if he was sent by Eric. You'd think that after taking out two vampire drainers and rescuing a vampire, asking if we had a mutual acquaintance would be a piece of cake. Well, turns out, it wasn't. Not at all.

All of a sudden he spoke up. "Would you like to drink the blood they collected? It would be a way for me to show my gratitude to you."

I shook my head immediately. "Nuh-uh. No thank you." I didn't want anyone's blood but Eric's. And I was pretty sure he didn't want me to take anyone's blood but his. Even though we hadn't had this talk yet, I was sure of both of these things.

He gestured to the vials of blood, which were still lying on the ground. "My blood would improve your health. And your sex life."

"Well, I'm as healthy as a horse. And I don't need any help with my sex life, so to speak." I raised my eyes to meet his. He was regarding me coolly. "It's your blood. You do what you want with it."

He was thoughtful for a moment. "You could sell it." Man, he really wasn't letting go of this, was he?

"Nope. Like I said, it's all yours. I don't want anything to do with it."

"You're different," he said unexpectedly. "What are you?" He seemed to be going through a list of possibilities in his head. I tried to peek in, but I got nothing, as I expected. It seemed as though there wasn't an on-off switch with vampire minds, like there was with human minds.

"Well, I'm Sookie Stackhouse. And I'm a waitress," I said honestly. "Who are you?"

"Bill."

I bit back a laugh. Bill? _Bill_? What is with these vampires having decidedly un-vampire like names? Bill? Eric? Pam? Thank God for Chow and Longshadow.

Instead, I asked, "So Bill, you never answered my question. Did Eric send you?"

"Why do you think he did?"

Holy shit, I save this guy's undead life, and he's still answering my questions with questions. What a douche.

I decided to step it up a notch. "Because this is the second time I've asked you and you still haven't given me a straight response." I arched an eyebrow, feeling as sassy as Pam.

He looked me straight in the eye as he said, "No, Eric Northman did not send me. And now you can answer my question. Why did you think he did?"

"Um," I said, stalling. Now that I knew this vampire wasn't affiliated with Eric, I didn't know how to move on from here. What could I do? What could I say? I decided to play dumb.

"Like, I went to Fangtasia last night, and, um, kinda hung out with him, you know," I said lamely, twisting a strand of hair in my ponytail while reverting back to Jason's cover-up phrase. Maybe it was like a bro-thing or something, and Bill would just understand and quit talking about this topic.

"I see," Bill said stiffly, leaving it at that. I blushed and looked away.

And THANK FUCK he didn't comment on smelling Eric's blood. Pam had, but maybe that's because it was the night that happened? Maybe it had been too long since I drank Eric's blood? I know he definitely smelled Eric on me; I had figured that out in the bar, when his nostrils had flared. And now that I didn't smell like a virgin anymore, he probably thought I was just a fangbanger. Which was okay, oddly enough, in this case. It was preferable, even.

I looked up from the ground that I had been studying, and I turned to look at Bill … but he wasn't there. What? I turned around in a circle but he was gone. Everything was gone—his jacket, the blood. I had no idea where he went. I had no idea about why he was here, or if he'd come back, or what his last name even was.

But I had an idea of who would know. Eric.

I went back inside to Merlotte's, the back way, and immediately headed right towards the phone. Luckily I had taken the time to memorize the number for Fangtasia earlier today, so I dialed that.

"Fangtasia, the bar with the bite," Pam answered.

"Pam, it's Sookie. I need Eric. Now."

"You didn't ask me how I was, so it must be urgent."

"PAM!"

"Relax. I'm walking to his office now. And here he is."

"This is Eric," he said. "And this is Sookie?"

"Yes," I said hurriedly. "Eric, a vampire just came to Merlotte's. You didn't send him, did you?"

He waited a moment before answering, "No, I did not send any vampire, much less a male one. Did he give you a name?"

"Yes. Bill. Just Bill. He has brown hair, brown eyes, and a Southern accent. Maybe 5'10" give or take?"

"Bill Compton," Eric said flatly. "I know him. I didn't know he was in my area, though. Last time I saw him was over eighty years ago, in Seattle. Did he give a reason for his being in Bon Temps?"

"No. I didn't ask. At least, I don't think I did. Eric, I had to save Bill from being drained tonight."

"You did?" Eric said, beaming. "Really? But Sookie, that is excellent!" He sounded like a proud doting father right now. He even chuckled.

Once he calmed down he added, "Were you injured? Explain how this happened."

I told him the story of how Bill was attacked, and also what I told Bill about Eric. "Eric, would he be able to smell your blood in me?"

"No, he would not," Eric said firmly.

"Um, is that a good thing?"

"Strategically speaking, yes."

"I think he smelled you on me though. Is that even possible? I mean, I showered this morning."

"I am glad to hear that you practice healthy human hygiene, Sookie," Eric said. I could hear his smile.

And I could hear mine when I said, "Oh, you hush now! You know what I mean."

"Yes. He would have smelled me on you. That is not necessarily a bad thing, though. How did you explain it?"

"I said I went to Fangtasia last night and hung out with you. Which is the truth, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. That was good, Sookie. You did everything right tonight."

I didn't call Eric to earn his praise, but it was nice to hear it all the same.

"When did this happen, this thwarted draining attempt?" he asked.

"Um, well, Bill left like two minutes ago. He just disappeared and took his blood and his coat with him."

"Sookie, you are still at work?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I hope the shifter gives you get a bonus for this," Eric muttered darkly. "So this happened say, ten minutes ago? And the shifter didn't help you? Did he even know this was happening?"

"I haven't told him about it yet. You were the first one I called."

"Interesting." He paused to let that sink in. Then, "What time do you get off of work?"

"At one. What time is it now?"

"Quarter to midnight."

"Oh. Thanks."

"It is nothing. I need to speak with the shifter. Can you put him on?"

"Yeah, hold on a sec, I'll go get him."

"And Sookie?"

"Yes, Eric?"

"You did everything right tonight … saving Bill, taking care of the drainers, calling me. I am glad that you told me this. Not many humans would be able to save a vampire from a drainer, and live. But I am glad that you did."

"Me too. Thanks, Eric. I'm going to go get Sam now, 'kay?"

"I will be here."

I put the phone down and walked briskly to the bar, where Sam was just walking from. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he purposefully looked at me and then walked determinedly back into the employee area. I followed quickly after him.

As soon as we were away from prying eyes and trying ears, Sam turned around and exploded. "Jesus H. Christ, Sookie, where were you? You leave, the vampire leaves, and you smell like him?"

"Now you shut your judgemental mouth Sam! For your information, I just _saved_ Bill's undead life from being drained by the fucking Rattrays! And I have Eric on the phone and he wants to talk to you, so could you take a minute out of your busy pissing-off-Sookie schedule and talk to him? Thanks."

Sam gaped for a moment before I pushed him toward the direction of the phone, and although he stumbled on his first step, he marched over to the phone and picked it up. "Merlotte."

Eric said something, and I wished for a second that I had vampire hearing, or even shifter hearing.

"Yeah, she just told me." Sam sounded very annoyed and he was only like, eight seconds into the conversation.

He paused to listen, and then all of a sudden he exploded with "I didn't even know, damnit! She didn't even tell me about it!"

Eric said something that made Sam square his shoulders and say "Now you listen to me, I—" and then Sam stopped talking and his mouth got very narrow and his eyes narrowed and he looked over at me and now I wasn't so sure I wanted vampire or shifter hearing.

There was a long pause on Sam's side of the conversation. That wasn't good.

"Fine," Sam said sullenly, like a child who didn't get his way. He thrust the phone at me and stalked off without a backwards glance.

So of course the first thing I said to Eric was, "Eric, what the hell did you say to Sam?"

"I was just giving him some advice, bar-owner to bar-owner, on why he is responsible for the safety of his employees."

Yeah. I bet. I grinned despite myself, and I was glad that Eric couldn't see me. I waited until the smile passed and then I replied, "Eric, I don't know if anyone every told you, but advice is like, 'maybe you should wear the blue jeans instead of the white ones,' or something. Not, 'I'm going to rip your shifter balls off because you let Sookie fight vampire drainers.'"

Eric laughed. "Sookie, don't be ridiculous. I would never say that."

"Oh yeah? What'd you say then?

"I said I would rip his shifter head off because he let you fight vampire drainers."

I burst out laughing. Eric laughed again, only this time with me.

"Right. 'Cause you're a vampire," I said once I was back to normal.

"Right. I prefer necks to balls, thank you very much. And I've never worn white jeans, so no one's ever had to give me advice like that."

"Really? No white jeans in a thousand years?"

"Not even during the '80s." He sounded oddly proud of that.

I snorted. Loudly. "Wait, so what else did you say to Sam? Why would he need to say 'Fine' to you all annoyed and stuff?

"He's giving you the rest of night off, and tomorrow as well, since you not only saved the vampire but you also saved him the legal trouble he would have to deal with if it was found out that there was illegal vampire draining occurring on his premises with two of his regular paying customers. As soon as this call ends I am going to go to Merlotte's and take you home for protection, in case the drainers come back for revenge."

"Oh, really? You'd think they do that? I don't know, I mean, they're probably going to be too busy figuring out how to get that chain off of Mack's neck than to worry about little old me."

"I don't want to risk that, Sookie, and frankly you shouldn't either."

I was quiet for a while after that, and Eric was too. At least, he was until he said, "I'm making preparations to leave now. I will be there as soon as possible."

"Okay. Thank you. You don't have to do this, you know."

"I know. I want to."

"I'm glad you want to."

Long pause. I added, "Okay, see you soon."

"Yes." And then he hung up.

I put the phone back in the receiver and then placed my hands on the back of my head as let out a long breath.

Well, you could definitely say things were always more interesting with Eric Northman in the mix.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Sorry for the wait—well, I've been cruel and made you wait longer, but this is kinda late considering the rapid posting pace I've established. I'll explain more in the A/N at the bottom, since I can't talk about it here without giving away too much, but this was the hardest chapter for me to write. Which is weird considering everything I've put our girl Sookie through.**

**Thanks to chiisai-kitty for her crazy-fast beta skillz, and CH for dreaming up SVM. Couldn't be doing this without either of them!**

…

As soon as I calmed down I walked over to Sam's office. He had stormed off so angrily, I was sure that he went to his office to lick his wounds by himself. And I knew I was probably the last person he wanted to see right now (wait, that was probably Eric, so maybe I was just the second-to-last person he wanted to see right now) but I still needed to see him, even if it was just to say good night.

I knocked on the door, and then knocked on the door again, but no one answered it or opened it or even said to open it.

"Sam?" I called out hesitantly, one hand resting on the door knob and the other on the door itself. "Sam, it's Sookie. You in there?"

I waited. No response.

"'Kay, hope you aren't naked or anything, 'cause I'm opening the door in three … two … one!"

I opened the door. He wasn't there.

After waiting in his room for a couple minutes, I went back and peeked out into the bar; from my vantage point, I couldn't see Sam out there either.

Lafayette saw me hovering as he exited the freezer carrying a carton of frozen hamburger patties. He took one look at me and said, "Sook, you on break now? 'Cause if you ain't, you should be. You ain't looking so fabulous, honey chile."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm taking the rest of the night off. Do you know where Sam is?" I asked distractedly.

Lafayette shook his head. "Sorry."

"That's okay," I said, "thanks anyway." I smiled weakly and turned to walk back to the employee area.

"Hold up now," Lafayette said, and I turned back around to face him. "Everything okay with you?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm all good." I even gave two thumbs-up, to prove my point.

"You sure?"

"Yes, really!"

"Alright, if you say so," Lafayette replied, sounding unsure. I just smiled and made some more small talk about the customers tonight until Lafayette excused himself to go back to work.

After that I went back to the employee room and walked over to the water cooler and poured myself a nice, cool glass of water. Once I was done with that I sat down on the edge of a table for a while, impatiently drumming my fingers on my thighs. I was hopped up on adrenaline, and I wanted something to do.

One thing's for sure: if I had known I'd be having this kind of night, I would have worn comfier shoes.

I waited around some more for Sam, but he didn't show so I went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. When I opened the door to go back and wait in Sam's office, I found him getting ready to go in the women's bathroom himself—obviously he'd been looking for me like I'd been looking for him.

"Jesus Christ, Sookie! What the hell was that all about?" Sam cried out, coming through the back door that led to the parking lot. I turned around to see Sam angrier than I'd ever seen him.

"What was what all about?" I asked. I honestly didn't have a clue what he was talking about—the phone call? The thwarted draining? My taking a glass of water?

Sam exploded at that, getting even angrier. He had too many things to talk about that he'd stop halfway through one thought just so he could start talking about another. The Rattrays. The vampire. The draining. The chain. The phone call. The secretiveness. Sam thought I had done wrong tonight—that I should have gotten him when I had my suspicions, and when I told him that I tried to find him but I couldn't, then I should have gotten Lafayette or Terry, "'cause he's the fucking ex-soldier, for Christ's sake!"

"What were you thinking, Sookie? You could have gotten yourself killed!" Sam thundered, putting a hand on each of my shoulders. Oh, so then it wasn't about my taking a glass of water. At least, I hoped it wasn't.

"I was thinking that there was a vampire getting drained outside, that's what I was thinking!" I shot back.

Sam stared at me for a few seconds before letting out a loud groan of frustration. He released my shoulders to tug at his hair.

"You're not getting it! You could have been killed tonight! Not the vampire—you! Even if you did manage to stop the draining, then what? He could have easily thanked you for saving his life, and then he could have taken yours, just like that! He's a _vampire_!"

Sam had been pacing while he was talking, but all of a sudden he stopped doing both, and I wondered why he paused in the middle of a fight.

"Are you going to fire me, Sam?" I asked timidly. That had to be why he stopped all of a sudden. Right?

"If he does, I have a job waiting for you at Fangtasia," Eric said smoothly, appearing out of nowhere armed with a maroon v-neck t-shirt, jeans, and one hell of an opening line.

Pam shashayed in behind him, dressed in a tight black leather dress and thigh-high boots. The boots were longer than her dress, actually, so that mustn't have been too comfy. She carried a large pink Vera Bradley purse that completely clashed with the whole dominatrix outfit. It looked like she couldn't make up her mind.

Sam crossed his arms angrily as soon as he saw Eric. Completely ignoring him, Eric walked over to me. "Sookie, are you okay?" he asked, scanning my body for any injuries.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for coming, Eric," I said gratefully. I looked next to him at Pam to make eye contact with her as I said, "You too, Pam."

"I thought it'd be nice to have a little field trip, but now I'm not too sure," she replied smoothly, giving the room an obvious once-over.

"Pam, be nice," Eric warned. He turned to look at her and she rolled her eyes in response. Eric winked at me and I stifled a giggle.

Sam was still fuming, but Eric and Pam were having a grand old time. "Sam, are you sure I'm okay to leave?" I asked hesitantly.

His face softened, and he replied, "Of course, cher, I'm glad nothing happened tonight. Thank you for keeping Merlotte's safe, even though you could have gotten me to do it."

He stepped over and gave me a big hug, which surprised the hell out of me—sure, we'd given each other hugs before, but none as long or tight as this. Although I'm sure this was all for Eric's benefit, and Sam's little plan seemed to be working because I could see Eric glaring at the back of Sam's head. I gave Eric a no-nonsense look, and he pointedly threw one back at me.

Finally I released Sam, and cleared my throat before saying, "Um, okay, let me go get my purse and then we can go."

Eric and Pam exchanged a look. Then, Pam said, "Oh, I do love purses so. I'll come with you."

"Okay?" I stammered, making it a question. She smiled and I returned it before I started walking into the backroom, Pam hot on my heels.

"What was that all about? What's Eric saying to Sam?" I asked, grabbing my purse as quickly as possible so I could go back and stop Eric from saying God knows what to Sam.

"Oh, you know, the kind of words that should be said after the shifter let you fight two-against-one against vampire drainers," Pam said airily.

I said what I thought—"Shit." That could not be good for Sam. I made my way to the door, and Pam stepped aside; she hadn't gone too far in the room, preferring to watch me tag out and find my purse all from the doorway.

"Yes, I'd imagine that'd be a word in the conversation," Pam smirked.

"Oh stop that, you know that wasn't what I meant," I said, hurrying back to Eric and Sam.

I needn't have hurried though; Sam was nowhere to be seen, and Eric was leaning against a counter, legs crossed.

"Where's Sam?" I asked accusingly.

"He had to attend to the bar."

"Yeah, sure."

Smirking, Eric put an arm around me and steered us back into the bar, where we were greeted with the sight of literally everyone in the bar watching us—including Sam at the bar. I heard Pam, who was following behind us, laugh a quiet laugh. It had been so loud before that I never would have been able to hear it, but ever since we walked in and everyone saw Eric and Pam and Eric's arm around me, you could have—well, you could have heard a vampire laugh a quiet laugh.

Sensing my discomfort, Eric pushed on, and soon we were out the door.

"I don't know which smelled worse, the people or the food," Pam grumbled as soon as we were in the parking lot.

Eric chuckled. Then he grew serious. "There, can you scent their tracks and follow them, Pam?" Pam nodded, every bit as serious as Eric. "All right then, you know what to do."

Pam dug in her bag and pulled out her car keys. But instead of strolling over to her mini-van that was parked horizontally in what was supposed to be three individual vertical parking spots, she stepped in front of me.

"It seems you're our very own Buffy, except now you're fighting for the good guys," she said, throwing me an appraising look. I laughed, and Eric let out an annoyed sigh. Pam took one look at him and raised an eyebrow before she continued, "If you had your own show, I'd watch it. All the time. I'd want to guest-star in it too."

"Off you go, Pam," Eric said. "Sookie didn't live through an attempted vampire draining so she could be bored to death by your unoriginal pickup lines."

Pam let out a huff and exaggeratedly rolled her eyes at me, but she did go in her car and drive off. Drive off where, though, I didn't know.

"Where's she going?" I asked as I watched the car lights get smaller and smaller. Eric had flown over the last time he came to Bon Temps, and I felt like he respected Pam too much to use her as his own personal chauffeur.

"Pam is going to follow the drainers' scent and deal with them," Eric said smoothly. I opened my mouth to question what exactly she was going to do with them, and Eric turned to look at me.

"Eric, she better not be doing what I think she's doing," I warned.

He wore an innocent expression as he asked, "And what is that?"

I gave him my best evil-eye. "If she's going to go find the Rattray's and kill them, then I'll take out their silver chains that I put in my pocket and I'll use them on you, honest to God."

"You're so sexy when you're threatening me," Eric said cheekily.

"Oh that's it," I huffed, reaching down in my pockets. Eric's hand shot out and stopped mine.

"Even though every part of me is pushing for those drainers to be killed for what they've done," Eric muttered, gritting his teeth, "I am sending Pam to glamour them."

"Glamour them into what? Committing suicide?" I hissed. His grip tightened, and his eyes burned into mine.

"No, glamour them into moving out of Louisiana and never, ever speaking to a vampire ever again, much less attempt to drain them," he replied angrily. "I am remembering how you like keeping humans alive no matter what they have done, and since you are responsible for stopping a killing and a draining, I am taking the course of action that best fits with your ideals as befits the situation. Though they attempted to take a vampire's life, I will not make an attempt on their life. And Pam has sworn that she won't either, even if she wants to see them dead, as I do."

He let go of my wrist then and took a couple steps back. He wouldn't even make eye contact with me, just stared at something a foot above my head.

"Oh," I replied lamely, feeling very small. Eric was doing all that, because of me? Doing what he thought I would appreciate most, rather than what he wanted to do? Damn. I wanted to take back everything I had just said to him. I felt like an ass. "I'm sorry, Eric. I didn't know."

He didn't say anything for a moment. I was waiting for him to gloat, to retort, to … to even raise his eyebrow. But he didn't do any of that. Instead, he murmured, "Let's get you home."

That made me feel even worse. And not just because he said "Let's get you home," and not, say, "Let's go home." At this point, I would rather have him rub my ignorance in my face, because let's face it—I would have deserved that, for making such an assumption about him. I am such an awful person.

I nodded weakly and we started walking over to my car. "Let me have the keys—I can drive you home," Eric said as I started to dig in my purse for the keys.

"No, that's okay," I said, making my way to the driver's side. Then, trying to lighten the tension, I joked, "Besides, I think I've had enough scares tonight—I don't want to have to deal with your maniac driving."

"That's a lie," Eric said quickly. I stopped walking and turned around to look at him. He hadn't moved, and was still near the trunk of the car.

"What's a lie?" I asked confusedly, replaying what I just said in my head.

"The part about you having enough scares tonight. That's a lie. You weren't scared during the time that you said you fought the drainers—I would have felt it," he explained. Even with the distance between us, and the relative darkness of the parking lot, I could still see his blue eyes staring into mine as he quietly added, "You weren't scared at all tonight, Sookie. You should have been, but you weren't."

I was floored—by the emotion laced in his voice, the openness of his eyes. I could tell this was big for him. Very big. And I hadn't even thought about how I wasn't really that scared tonight—though whether that was because I didn't have time to freak out or because the witch fight kind of de-sensitized me, I didn't know. What I did know was that it meant a lot more to Eric than it did to me.

What do you say to that? I said nothing. I nodded my head. I fucking nodded my head like a bobble-head on the dashboard of a car or something. Eric seemed to accept that though, and he nodded back at me before he started walking towards the passenger side.

I pulled out of my parking spot and made it home with no trouble. We were silent for much of the quick ride home, until I turned onto Hummingbird and Eric softly asked me where exactly I had found him.

I turned then, to look at him, but he was staring straight ahead. He looked like he meant business. I pulled over when I neared the spot I thought was where I first saw him.

Without saying anything, he opened the door, still not looking at me, and got out. I turned the car off and unbuckled my seatbelt, prepared to join Eric outside, but I stopped when I saw what he was doing. He was sitting on the side of the road, hands wrapped around knees, and he was silently staring down the road, towards my house. I could only see the back of his head, since he was facing away from me, so I cautiously opened the door and walked over and sat down next to him, not saying a word the whole time. He didn't speak either, even though I knew for a fact that he heard me, not to mention see me, come over to him. I don't know what he was looking at, but I was looking as far down the road as my headlights allowed.

"So this is where the magic happened," Eric murmured, still staring straight ahead.

"Literally," I replied, thinking he was talking about where he became an amnesiac.

"Yes, that too," Eric conceded, and I immediately turned to look at him after he spoke. What on earth did he mean by that?

But Eric didn't elaborate, and he looked so, so un-Eric-like, that I didn't question it. I forced myself to turn and stare straight ahead again, because staring at black nothingness was easier than staring at an Eric who looked peaceful and disturbed at the same time—from the side, at least.

I don't know how long we sat there, but it was long enough for me to try and figure out why we were doing it. Did Eric think that going back to his amnesiac roots would give him his memories back? It seemed like it might work, but judging by how long we'd been sitting here, I didn't think it was.

All of a sudden Eric got up, and I started to prepare to get up too, but my hands gave out as I watched Eric randomly take off his shirt. Not that I was complaining, but what the hell? He silently took off his shoes and socks, placing the socks in the shoes, and then he started running. Not vampire running, but regular running—regular running like he had been doing that first night. I watched him jog into the distance until he was far away from the lights of my car. So he was trying to recreate the events of that night. I hadn't inspected his jeans or anything, but I would have bet that they were the ones he had been wearing, the ones that I washed for him.

Eric vampire-speeded back to me then, and stopped when he was near me. I stood up when he approached.

"Did it work?" I asked softly, already knowing his answer before he gave it.

He shook his head. "I thought it would have worked," he admitted, talking quickly and quietly so he wouldn't have to admit defeat more than necessary. He added, "It should have. It would have made sense to have worked." He sounded like he thought that he could bully the curse into reversing.

I tried to come up with an appropriate response, and I settled with, "It's not like most of this makes sense."

"That is true," Eric said. "But I had been looking over Hallow's spell book earlier this evening, and I thought of trying to recreate the events of that night. Strangely enough, I had been wearing these jeans, the jeans I had worn that night, to the witches meeting, and I thought it might have been a sign, that it might have been meaningful that I ended up wearing those jeans the first time you call me."

"Do you … do you want to try running and then have me drive up next to you?" I asked hesitantly. "I mean, it might work. It's worth a shot though, right?"

Eric tilted his head thoughtfully before replying, "I suppose. I have nothing to lose by it—just everything to gain."

He turned and started running down the road, and I took that to be my cue to get my butt back in the car and follow him, so I did just that—after I picked up his clothes and took them with me. When I caught up with him, and got out of my car all over again, I could tell it didn't work.

Eric was frowning as he walked over and put his socks and shoes back on, and then his shirt. I watched, saying nothing but recording everything. After a few more minutes of waiting, he finally said, "I'm done here," and we both got in the car.

I started up the car again, and the rest of the ride home was silent. Not awkward silent, but mellow silent. Eric was staring out the window, looking so confused and disgruntled I was reminded of the last time I had drove down this road with him.

"Hey, Eric?"

"Yes, Sookie?"

"I just remembered I forgot to tell you something earlier."

"Okay. Let's have it then."

"Um, Bill asked if I wanted his blood," I said quickly. Eric stared at me, and I quickly added, "I know that's unusual for you—believe me, I know that better than anyone—but it's not normal for all vampires to offer blood to a human within minutes of meeting them, right?"

Eric stared at me for a long time, and then stared into the distance for an even longer time. Finally he looked back at me and replied in a rough voice, "In a word, yes. Sookie, you_ need_ to explain to me what happened when he asked. Do not omit any detail."

Wow, Eric meant business about this. "It was after I took all the chains off of him, and he just kind of gestured to the blood and said I could have it—it'd be a way for him to show me his gratitude. In fact, now that I think about it, he asked me if I wanted his blood before he told me his name."

"A way to show gratitude is writing a note or sending a gift or money, not giving blood. This is true for both vampires and humans," Eric muttered, deep in thought.

Even though things had just gotten really serious, I still snorted. But that didn't bring Eric out of his little funk.

"So just to be clear, you didn't take any of his blood, correct? You didn't drink it from the vials or straight from the source?"

I nodded, and Eric looked a litle better. But his whole demeanor changed in the next second—he sat up straight in his chair and started looking around.

"What? What is it, Eric?" I asked, very concerned. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe his little plan worked, and he now remembered everything, really everything, that happened with us. I slammed on the breaks and turned excitedly to him as I screeched, "Did it work? Do you remember now?"

Instead of answering, Eric was out of the car, opening my car door, and whooshing me to the front porch of my house in two seconds flat. He had even managed to put the car in park during all of that. It was so quick I barely had time to register I was in his arms, much less appreciate it.

"Unlock the door. Now," he urged, looking expectantly at me. I blinked. What was happening? What was going on? "Just do it, Sookie!"

After I didn't do anything, Eric reached in my purse and pulled out the house keys, and they were in the door and I was in the house before I even had time to say anything. He slammed the door shut and turned to face me.

"What the hell?" I asked confusedly.

"I smelled him. Bill Compton," Eric explained in a rough-sounding voice.

I felt my whole body stiffen, and my eyes widened. "You smelled Bill Compton—here?"

He nodded.

"Here, by my house?" I asked dumbly, just to make sure.

He nodded again. "You've never met him before tonight, is that correct?"

Now it was my turn to bob my head.

"And you can't be glamoured, so this definitely would be the first time you'd know him," Eric said, more to himself than me. He sounded like he was thinking out loud, or at least he did until he addressed me by asking, "So it is safe to say he has never been invited to your house?"

"Right. And it's not like I told him where I lived so he'd know where to send a thank-you card," I replied, finally understanding what Eric was doing, what he was thinking.

Eric allowed himself to chuckle before he became serious again. "Listen to me, Sookie. You are going to stay here; if he's never been invited in your house, you're safest here. I'm going to go outside to investigate this, and see where his scent goes."

"Oh, okay," I said slowly. "Wait, what about you? What if you successfully track him—then what? How are you going to explain your being at my house?"

Eric glanced quickly towards me. "What if I'll say I had your blood, and I felt you were scared?"

"Would you do that for a normal girl?" I asked. "I don't want Bill to get suspicious."

"But you're not a normal girl," Eric said in an obvious tone of voice, like '_You're not a normal girl and the sky is blue and 2 + 2 = 4 and why aren't you getting this?'_

"I know that, but Bill doesn't. And quite frankly I don't want him to."

"I agree."

"I don't know how else to explain your sudden appearance though."

"Me neither," Eric said. Then his cell phone rang, and he smoothly reached into his pocket and took a look at the caller ID. "Yes?"

He was silent for a while after that, while Pam talked. Then, "So everything went according to plan?"

Shorter pause. Then he said, "Good. Very good. That is all."

He waited some more, and then he hung up. He looked a little less tense during the conversation, but it all came back now that he had to focus to this problem on hand.

"Here it is. I was investigating the Ratrays. You said they had drained a vampire before, yes?"

I nodded in reply.

"Excellent. So they were at Fangtasia yesterday, and you recognized them and told me of their reputation, so tonight I drove out to Bon Temps to deal with them properly. I went to their house—"

"Sorry, but you'll have to say 'their trailer.' The Rats live in a trailer park," I interrupted.

Eric didn't even seem to mind that I interrupted him; his eyes lit up at my participation and he enthusiastically continued, "Good. Good. Every detail counts. So, I went to their trailer and of course they weren't there, because they were at Merlotte's. It was then that I felt your terror, not because you've had my blood but because I've had yours—while I fed on you at Fangtasia, you see—and since I was so close to you, geographically speaking, I went to Merlotte's and met you there and that explains how I know everything and ended up at your house."

I went over the plan in my head. "Okay, yeah, I'd buy that." I was surprisingly okay with pretending to be a fangbanger, if that meant that Bill wouldn't get any ideas about me.

"Good to know. So, you will stay here and I will go outside, and we will figure this out." He started walking towards the door.

"Eric!" I cried out, and he turned around and looked at me quizzically. I continued, "Are you going to be okay?"

He smiled softly and walked back over, so he was standing right smack dab in front of me, and replied, "Of course. Bill Compton is nothing. Especially when compared to me. The only thing he holds over me, or over us, is his mysteriousness—the element of surprise. I will be fine. You will be too."

I smiled at him then, and he looked at me for a couple seconds before he walked back to the front door. He looked back at me and nodded before he opened the door and whizzed out of it, closing it behind him.

Not knowing what else to do, I took my shoes off, put my purse down on the kitchen table, and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. I went over to the window and looked outside, but it was too dark out to see anything, much less a speeding vampire.

I went and found Tina fooling around with one of her toys in the living room, and I played with her, waiting for Eric to finish. Even still, I jumped when I heard the front door open and slam in the same second, and by the time I turned around Eric was right in front of me. Tina skedaddled out of the room like someone just set her tail on fire, but I barely registered because I was too busy trying not to scream.

"Hi," he said nonchalantly.

"Oh my God," I wheezed. "Stop popping up like that!"

"Sorry."

"That's okay," I said automatically. "It doesn't matter. Was Bill out there?"

"No. His scent was still fresh, so I'd guess that he came here after the attack. He didn't go right up to your house, just into your yard, and then he circled around the perimeter before going into the graveyard. I followed that trail, but as soon as it became clear that was how he left, and he didn't come back, I returned here to you."

"Oh. Thanks for the security check."

"It is not a problem. But if, for whatever reason, Bill does drop by, or you sense something amiss, you should let me know."

"Okay," I replied. That seemed fair.

Eric paused before saying, "You don't have my cell phone number, do you?"

I shook my head. "I didn't even know you had one until tonight."

"Well, you should have it. Use it to contact me if you see Bill again."

"Yeah, sure. Lemme grab a pen and paper," I said, walking into the kitchen, to the drawer where I kept those.

"You should just enter it into your cell phone, save yourself the trouble," Eric replied helpfully, walking two steps behind me.

"I don't have a cell phone. Oh, here we go, I'm ready. Hit me with your digits," I said as carefully as I could. Eric was giving me his number. Eric was giving me his number!

Instead, he asked, "You don't have a cell phone?"

Exasperated, I answered, "Yeah. You know that. Or, wait … yeah. Well, you should know that now, anyways, since you did a whole background check on me and stuff. So c'mon. What's your number?"

He was quiet for a couple seconds, and then he gave me it. Then he added, "I forgot to mention this earlier, but Pam found the drainers and glamoured them—told them that they were pro-vampire rights, they would never attack or do anything to a vampire besides be tolerant of them, and they're moving to Washington D.C. to help the budding vampire rights movement."

"Wow. Good for Pam. That was really mature of her. I would have thought she'd tell them to go get makeovers or something," I said with a grin.

Eric smiled. "She did say that she told the woman to go to the mall at least once a week and buy herself something pretty, but that was her embellishment, not mine."

_'Her embellishment, not mine.' _So did that mean Eric had told Pam to say those things about the vampire rights? Probably. Wow. That was very … magnanimous of him. Because of that, he'd be helping local vampires in more ways than one, and he'd be helping the Ratrays in more ways than one.

All because he knew I would want that. Because he knew me. Because he knew what I would like and what I wouldn't like. _Because he knew me._

Eric started telling me about the huge storage room Pam rents to store all of the clothes she's gathered through the years. From what he said, I gathered that there was a lot to store. And boy, I believed him.

"Why doesn't Pam open her own clothing boutique or something? No offense, but she doesn't seem to like Fangtasia too much," I said. I set down the paper and pen, and turned so I could lean against the counter. Eric took a couple steps over and leaned next to me.

Once he was settled, he said, "She tried that, back in the nineties. But Pam was too confrontational with the customers—she scared them all away. She'd get emotionally attached to the clothes she was trying to sell, which was as funny as it sounds. She'd try to sell entire wardrobes to customers that only came in for a sweater, or she'd tell a customer that she was wearing something wrong, and she'd kick her out of the store." With a wry grin, he leaned in closer to me and whispered, "You might have noticed this, but Pam is terrible at keeping her mouth shut." He winked at me and I grinned.

"Oh, don't worry, I noticed," I giggled.

"Pam hasn't said anything to you about wanting to be done with Fangtasia, has she?" Eric asked carefully.

"Oh, gosh no! She hasn't said a word! That was just me just thinking out loud, that's all. It just seems like she doesn't seem to like the, um, clientele, and she's not a big fan of dressing up for them."

"That is true, but she says it's worth wearing so much black if it means she can berate the humans like she does."

I laughed. "She would say that."

"I'll still speak to her. I would let her go, if that was what she truly wanted. I have done that in the past, but she always comes back," Eric said seriously.

"Listen, Eric, I don't want you to get the wrong idea or anything. I'm not trying to tell you how to run your business or anything like that, because Lord knows I'd have no idea how to do what you do. Just forget it. I just didn't have a brain filter for a second, that's it," I replied, rushing and talking so quickly my words kind of fell on each other. I didn't want to get Pam in trouble and I didn't want to tell Eric how to live his undead life. And I really wanted him to know that.

Eric looked at me, and the only way to describe the expression on his face was curious. Yes, Eric was looking curiously at me, and I had no idea why. The words he said after this discovery didn't seem to help me either: "I understand, Sookie. Although I must add, I haven't had any trouble with feeding at Fangtasia, with Taryn or any other vampire, after Taryn became a waitress—all because of you and your idea."

"Anytime. Happy to be of service, even," I said once I was able to form coherent thoughts. Was Eric thanking me? He was definitely complimenting me, that's for sure. And I reckoned this was definitely not something that Eric did often—complimenting people, much less complimenting me. And he seemed so serious now. I couldn't pull myself away from his eyes, and based on how he was gazing into mine, he must have felt the same way.

"I brought your check over," he said finally, looking down to reach for his pocket.

"What? What check?" I asked confusedly.

"This one," Eric replied, pulling out the aforementioned check and handing it to me. I unfolded it and my eyes bugged. It was from the Fangtasia account, not just the name Eric Northman and no address. And it was for two hundred dollars.

"It's what I owe you for coming to Fangtasia and using your telepathic powers," he continued smoothly.

I protested, "Eric, I only read people for, like, an hour."

Eric smirked and said, "I know, I was there."

"But you, you can't do this!"

"Do what?"

"Pay me all this money for sitting at a table and reading people's minds! I'm sure your waitresses make this in a night or two, not a single hour!" I sputtered.

"You're not a waitress. Well, not at Fangtasia, anyway. And you are more valuable than any of those waitresses … Taryn included," Eric murmured. He moved so he was now facing me, instead of standing next to me.

I looked up at him to see his reaction when I asked, "Why?"

"I don't understand the premise of the question," Eric said, furrowing his brow.

"Why am I valuable? Is it because of my telepathy? Because of what I know? Or because of who I am?"

God, I hated sounding like a needy girl, but I wanted to know where I stood with Eric. I wanted to know why he was listening to me, talking to me, dropping everything he was doing to protect me on a moment's notice. Why?

"All of those and more, I think," he quietly admitted, eyes never leaving my face.

"Oh," I murmured after a dazed moment. That was all I could manage now—he had just taken my breath away.

"Now, unfortunately I didn't bring any digital entertainment like the last time I came here so I don't have that excuse to sit you down, but you've had a rough night and maybe an even rougher day, I don't know, so perhaps you should, as they say, take it easy?" Eric said. Was he—was he rambling, a little bit? Eric Northman—_rambling_?

"No, I'm fine," I said automatically.

Eric raised an eyebrow at me but didn't say anything.

"Oh, alright, my feet do hurt," I conceded, "but that's it. My day wasn't rough at all, really."

Eric put a hand on my upper arm as he used the other one to gesture to the kitchen table. I took a seat at my customary spot, and Eric sat down where his used to be—or where it was now? But it was just the seat right across from me, so I didn't allow myself to get too excited and hope that he randomly got his memories back.

"What did you do?" Eric asked as soon as we were both seated. Oh my God. This was like what we'd do after I came home from work and Eric had just woken up. He'd want to know what he missed out on during his daytime slumber. And the same thing was happening now.

He was interested. That was good. No, that was GREAT!

"I had lunch with my brother," I replied, only a trace of the giddiness I felt slipping through my poker-voice.

"Jason, right?" Eric asked, smiling. He probably thought I was suddenly very happy because I was thinking of my brother. Nope. Not at all.

I nodded. Gleefully.

"How did that go? Did he say anything to you?"

"About what?"

Eric shrugged. "Me."

Oh, right. Because of Dawn. Because that happened thanks to Eric.

"Um, we talked about vampires, but not you in particular. He doesn't know about you," I said, trying to be as tasteful as possible.

Eric stared hard at me. "Why not?"

"Um, well, you heard about how he blew a gasket when he found out that Dawn had sex with a vampire and liked going out to vampire clubs. Imagine what he'd be like if he found out _you _were that vampire and _you _owned the vampire club he hated so much and _you_ had a romantic history with his sister. I wouldn't want to be within spitting distance of him when he found all that out."

"Why would you want to be within spitting distance anyways? That's such an odd expression—_spitting distance_."

"I don't know, Eric, I didn't come up with it. _You_ were probably around when it was first coined," I said in a mock-accusing tone, pointing my finger at him so he'd know I was teasing him.

"Well, if I had met the inventor, I would have talked him or her into saying 'within biting distance,'" Eric said haughtily, crossing his arms.

I snorted—I couldn't help it. "Remember that this is before vampires came out, so 'biting distance' might have sounded weirder than 'spitting distance.'"

Eric laughed a little. "Fine. How about 'kissing distance?' Are you okay with 'kissing distance?' Does that work for you?"

I admitted, "Yeah." And to myself, I admitted, '_especially because you're within kissing distance of me, and I'm within kissing distance of you_.'

Eric cleared his throat. "So, we seemed to have talked about everything but what's going to happen later tonight."

"What's going to happen later tonight?" I asked.

He smoothly replied, "I'm either going to leave you here alone and go back to my own home, or I'm going to stay with you all night and retire in your hidey hole."

I stared at him from across the table. I honestly hadn't thought about that. Obviously Eric had.

I wanted him to stay after, I did, but I didn't know if I was ready for it. Eric was. But Eric didn't remember all of his other sleepovers. I knew he really wanted to, maybe would even do anything to get those memories back, but that didn't mean he remembered. I did. I remembered everything. I had to.

Of course I was still attracted to Eric. Of course I was slowly beginning to have feelings for him, after they had vanished when he first woke up from his amnesia. Why wouldn't I have feelings for him? He cared about me, about my well-being, about my life. He was making the effort to learn more about me, as I was with him. And he had dropped everything he was doing tonight on a moment's notice, just to help me, and he had completely rearranged his schedule so he could protect me. He did what he thought I would like, not what he wanted to do. He was paying attention to my likes and dislikes. I had fun with him—he made me laugh, even if he also used to make me cry. But now we just laughed—together. And his looks? Well, it's not like I needed another reason to like him.

But … as insanely attracted as I was to him, I still was nervous. About him, what he might do, what I might do. I wanted things to be right between us when things happened … if they even happened at all.

"Well?" Eric asked after he was finished watching me slowly act, look, and sound like a fish out of water.

"Sure. You can stay the night, if you want to. You don't have to. Or whatever," I finally said.

"If it's not too much, I think that would be the best option," Eric replied easily.

"I don't have any blood in the house," I said. Then I wondered why on Earth would I say that? He already said yes, why was I trying to push him away? Stupid Sookie!

"That's fine. Although, I don't like seeing your face when you say that. You look pained, and I'm the one who won't have any refreshments," Eric said. "It's fine, Sookie."

"Well, maybe the next time I'm at the Wal-mart I'll pick up a six-pack … or something."

"If you happen to see it. If not, it is fine."

"Okay then."

"Okay then."

We looked at each other from our spots across the table.

"Now what?" I asked, trying to break up the silence.

"Well, what you normally do after a long shift?" Eric asked.

_Go right to bed._ "Um, I don't know … watch some TV, maybe eat a little snack."

"Then let's do that," Eric said, standing up. I rose out of my chair too.

"Uh, okay," I replied, walking over to the cabinet. I fixed myself a little bowl of pretzels and poured a glass of lemonade, while all the while Eric was watching me from his position leaning against the counter.

"All set," I said. Eric nodded, and let me pass him to go into the living room. I sat down on the couch—the spot I always used to sit on with Eric—and he tentatively sat down next to me.

I picked up the clicker and started going through the channels, finally stopping when Eric excitedly pointed at the screen and cried, "No! Go back!"

He stopped me again when we got to a documentary about deep sea fish that live thousands and thousands beneath the surface of the sea—in the "photic zone" that the British announcer had already mentioned four times in the fifteen seconds I had been staring at the TV. Those fishes were creepy looking—especially the lantern fish, the fish with the big teeth and the little glowy thing hanging from his head. I excitedly remembered that it was the same fish that tried to eat Marlin and Dory in _Finding Nemo_.

"You want to watch a documentary on fish?" I asked incredulously, glancing at him. Once again, I was finding out that Eric was anything but predictable.

"It's not just fish. Wait for a bit. It's on how scientists are using vampires to go diving, since we don't need any air. I volunteered to do it a month or so after the Great Revelation; I thought it would be a great way to show the benefits of having vampires in American society. The dive was in the Atlantic Ocean, and I remember talking to camera crews from the Discovery Channel. I think this might be it."

"Oh, cool," I said. We went back to watching the show, and sure enough, the British guy started talking about vampires. Scientists were interviewed saying all the benefits of having vampires and humans work together in the name of science. There was a part on an redheaded vampire woman exploring and taking artifacts from a sunken ship, and then a British vampire who went diving in the Pacific. And then, after a long commercial break, there was a segment on Eric. Eric was being interviewed while wearing a wetsuit that was peeled off halfway, so his torso and chest were free and his bottom half was covered by a tight black wet suit with red striped on the sides. With that outfit, his muscles, and his long blonde hair, Eric looked like a surfer. A really, really hot surfer. Holy smokes.

He was introduced just as "Eric" without any last name or age. He said he lived in Louisiana and was originally from Sweden. He also talked a little about his plans about a vampire bar, but didn't elaborate much about it. Even though he wanted to put on a good face for humans—and damn, what a face—he actually wasn't giving out too much personal information in this interview. Which was understandable, but it made me feel superior to the other people watching this show, not just because I was sitting next to him on my couch but because I knew more about him than they did. Childish, but true.

After they finished introducing Eric, the next shot was of him with his wetsuit all the way on, complete with giant black flippers. He had goggles on his head, ones that were so big they looked like glasses from the '80s; they were formatted with a big camera, like where the light was on a miner's hat, so the scientists on land could see what Eric was seeing under water, thousands of feet below them.

The program alternated between showing shots of Eric swimming, and what he was seeing when he was swimming, from his point of view. Either way, I "oohed" and "aahed" at what Eric, and now the rest of us thanks to him, experienced—the different fish, the colors—or lack of—and the depth of the sea. I expected Eric to look smug, which he kind of was, but I didn't expect him to get excited about this as I was. After all, he'd already _seen_ it and _lived _it—this should be old news. Especially for a thousand-year-old vampire. But here he was, sneaking little glances at me and smiling whenever he was on the screen. He was getting into it, and he also seemed really glad that I was into it. Especially when I started peppering him with questions about what he saw and what it was like.

We talked about that during commercial breaks, and then the show switched geography and had an Australian vampire—a blonde, twenty-something guy named Davy—dive down and explore the Great Barrier Reef. Eric still looked interested, but the conversation stopped flowing. And even though those shots were pretty, I felt my eyelids getting heavier and my body getting more tired. I leaned my head back to rest on the back of the couch, and closed my eyes just for a second, just to rest them. And then, suddenly then I was out for the count.

...

**A/N: So the reason why there was such a delayed posting was because I had such a hard time figuring out if Sookie should get attacked by the revenge-seeking Ratrays and be saved by Eric, who gives her blood to heal, or if Eric would just eliminate the Ratrays and save Sooks some pain. I wrote out both scenarios, but as you've just read, I sided with the latter, because I thought Eric would have been in vampire/Viking/sheriff mode and took control of the situation. But then I couldn't figure out if I wanted him to kill the couple, or glamour them. Decisions, decisions! But it's done now. So there ya have it!**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Hiyas! **

**First onto the usual business: thank you to Charlaine Harris for her characters. And thank you to you guys! I was really crunched for time writing this, and I figured that you'd appreciate to see a new chapter alert in your inbox than a review reply. But seriously, your reviews are inspiring and great for letting me know how I'm doing. Like I wrote last chapter, I had a tough time plotting out the Ratray line, and it helped that a lot of the reviews agreed with my decision! So THANK YOU ALL.**

**Now the fun stuff: **

**Thank you (and hugs!) to my beta chiisai-kitty not only for combing through this, but also for doing it the same day she posted my favorite story of hers, Backbeat. If you're following me on twitter (and if you aren't you totally should!) then you know I work at a record store and am a huge music geek, so it's so good to have a music/band E/S story that works, big time! here's the link, with some additional spacings you can take out:**

**http:/www. fanfiction. net/s/5790195/1/**

**And also, this chapter is for NorthmanMaille (or AlisonbyNumbers on twitter) who's been a good follower and, more importantly, an even better friend to me. And she's had a bit of rough luck recently, so here's hoping that this little ditty will be able to put a smile on her face! **

…

The next thing I knew I was under the covers of my bed. I checked to see what I was wearing—my Merlotte's uniform from last night. I even had my socks still on. I groggily tried to blink myself awake, and when I was done with that I sat up straight. Whaa? How did I get up here? The last thing I remembered was watching that sea video with Eric. ERIC!

I looked around wildly and … didn't see him anywhere. Because it wasn't until now that I realized that it was morning, because of the sun that was coming in through the windows and onto the bed. I crawled over to the side of the bed that was closest to the closet (Eric's old side) so I could see if he was in his little hidey hole, which he probably was.

What I wasn't expecting was that when I swung my feet over the side of the bed and stepped onto the floor, Eric's old blanket would be there; instead of landing on wood, I landed on blanket. And that made me even more confused.

I immediately looked down—not only was Eric's "blanket" there, but everything else that I had stuffed into the hidey hole was there too: his old Walmart clothes. His old flip flops. And now, the maroon shirt he wore last night and his black boots—crap, I had forgotten to ask him if he wanted to take his shoes off last night! I'm an awful hostess!—were on top of that pile.

Holy shit. I wondered what Eric was thinking when he opened that trap door and looked in to see a blanket and some clothes—that probably still smelled like him—where he was supposed to sleep. And he would have gone through that alone, since I had been sleeping during that time. In fact, I was sleeping the whole damn time he carried me up the stairs, opened the closet door, and then did God knows what while he waited for the sun to come up.

Did he stay with me in the bedroom? Did he lie down next to me, snuggle with me under the covers, and watch me sleep? Or did he simply put me on the bed on a commercial break, and then vampire-run down the stairs so he wouldn't miss anything on the program?

I wished I could have vampire smell, so I could track Eric's scent.

Well, we probably wouldn't run out of things to talk about later while we did God knows what on my night off.

Even though it was daytime—ten in the morning, now that I looked back at my clock—I still tiptoed out of the room, as if there was any chance of waking Eric up. And it was because I was being so quiet that I was able to hear the thoughts of whoever was in my living room right now. He or she was thinking exactly what I was thinking: "."

I quietly tiptoed back into the closest room—Gran's. _Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I do_? I wished it was night time so Eric would be up. But I didn't need him! I didn't need him last night when I fought the Ratrays! _Think, Sookie, think!_

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the broom I had used a long time ago to clean up Gran's room. There. That would do the trick. I grabbed it and quietly made my way down the stairs, to whoever was now thinking, "What the fuck happened last night?"

Hold up, I wasn't reading my own thoughts, was I? Did my telepathy backfire on me or something? _'Purple lettuce. Forest fires. Trolls. Sodium.'_

Nope, now the person downstairs was thinking about food, wondering what I had in my fridge. What a crappy burglar.

Anyways, so it wasn't me. Who was it?

I silently crept down the stairs, trying not to hit the ceiling with the broom that I was holding like a baseball bat, and found—Jason! Jason was the person downstairs with the thoughts!

"Holy shit, Jason!" I cried out as soon as I saw him, in an old 'Bon Temps Football' shirt and torn jeans. "I almost hit you with the broom!"

"Really? You heard someone creeping around in your house and you pick up a broom to hit them with? Even after last night?" Jason retorted.

I thwacked him over the head with the broom before resting it on the staircase. "I was improvising, you big doofus. What are you doing here anyway? And what do you mean, 'even after last night?'"

Now that I thought about it, this was the second time in two days that Jason had woke me up, all before noontime. Ugh. Now I didn't want to think about that at all.

"Well, I'll tell ya this, Rene Lenier couldn't wait to tell me that you beat up the Ratrays last night outside of Merlotte's. He went over to their trailer to buy some weed, and Denise drove up like she was ready to kill someone … which I guess she was. You."

"Yeah, I kinda got that last night," I replied dryly.

"So anyway," Jason said, not sounding too pleased with my interrupting, "the only way she would sell anything to Rene was if he drove Mack to the hospital in Monroe, which he did." He narrowed his eyes at me accusingly.

"Yeah, well, did Rene tell you that Mack came at me with a knife?" I asked. That would probably distract Jason from wondering what the hell I was doing fighting the Rats anyways. And it worked.

"What? Hell no. If Denise told Rene that, he didn't tell me." He paused. "A _knife_?"

"Yeah. But I found this chain outside in the parking lot, and I somehow managed to get it tight around his neck, and then the Rats left after that."

"Good," Jason said, mulling this in his head. He had relaxed a little, and I could tell he was accepting this. Which really was "good." Now, all I had to do was offer him breakfast, and then he probably wouldn't even question why I was outside when I was supposed to be working, and why I was outside fighting the Rats.

"You hungry?" I asked quickly, turning to walk into the kitchen.

"Sure am. What the heck were you doing in the parking lot anyways?" Jason replied, walking behind me.

Damn. I stopped at that, and Jason walked into my back. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Did you know that in addition to being drug dealers, the Ratrays are also _vampire drainers_?" I asked, turning around to face him.

"What? No! Wait, what does that have to do with anything?"

Relieved that Jason didn't answer with, "Good for them!" or "Someone has to!" I replied, "Well, one of my customers last night was a vampire, and they were trying to drain him in the parking lot, so I had to stop them!"

"There was a vampire in Bon Temps last night?"

I nodded.

"Sookie, you do not want to get mixed up with vampires. Trust me, I know," Jason said, trying on his big brother pants for the first time. It was cute, but it was a little too late for that.

"Yeah. Well. Even though you might not want to be buddies with vampires, there's no excuse for letting no-good trash like the Rats torture and drain and maybe even kill someone who didn't do anything to them."

"A vampire in Bon Temps. Who'd have thunk?" Jason asked, scratching his head. "Homulka doesn't have a vampire, you know."

I turned to walk back into the kitchen, so Jason wouldn't see my dopey grin. Homulka was our town's rival, not just for football but for life, really. And Jason, always the jock he was in high school, would think that. Right now I didn't care what he was thinking, as long as it wasn't about the vampire.

"Yeah. Well, I don't know if Bon Temps has a vampire either. He never said what he was doing here, you know." Well, I could have guessed. But Jason didn't need to know that.

"Sookie … what did the vampire look like?" Jason asked.

What the hell? Where did that come from? "I don't know … brown hair, brown eyes."

"So he wasn't bald-headed? No tattoos neither?"

I stared. "Nope."

Jason was thinking that since Dawn had told him what Eric looked like, he wanted to know if that vampire came into Merlotte's to see Dawn.

"Wait, why did you just ask me that?" He didn't answer. "Jason?"

Jason didn't say anything for a while. "Maudette showed me a video last night … a home sex video of her and some freaky-eyed motherfucking vampire who was bald and had all these tattoos on his body," he finally replied, very reluctantly.

I immediately put my shields up, not wanting to get any mental pictures from Jason

And who was this vampire? Well, it definitely wasn't Eric, or Bill, and I couldn't remember any vampire from Fangtasia that would fit that description. Maybe I'd ask Eric about him. I mean, how many bald, tattooed vampires were out there, anyway? Eric would know.

"It's just like, every time I find a girl, some vampire's already gotten to her first!" Jason complained, running his hands through his hair.

Boy oh boy, he didn't even know the half of it. But I kept my mouth shut.

"I mean, first it was Dawn, now it's Maudette. Who's next?"

_Uh, me._

I treated that like a rhetorical question and got to work on scrambling some eggs for us. After some more fidgeting, Jason started toasting some bread and setting the table. When breakfast was all ready, he started telling me some town gossip, which he had a lot of today. Apparently Rene Lenier was quite the little busybody today, if Jason had all these bits to tell me. They worked on the road crew together, which sounds taxing but all they really did was drive around in state pickup trucks and wear tee shirts with the sleeves cut off. The two guys went to high school together, along with the last musketeer, Hoyt Foytenberry. And with the way all three of them acted, especially around women or beer, you'd think they still were in high school.

Jason finished his meal in record speed, and he looked at his watch once he put down his fork. "Well, I really oughta get going now. Thanks for breakfast," he said distractedly, getting up to clear his plate. "It's been real." He bent down and kissed me on the top of my head before walking out the front door.

I just sat there stunned, not knowing what surprised me more: Jason kissing me, or Jason cleaning up. Maybe it was just a mixture of both.

I cleaned up the rest of breakfast and got ready to go to the grocery store. I was out of bacon, bread, and Tru Blood.

I saw that this grocery store only had the Tru Blood brand of synthetic blood, which I picked up a 4-pack of. And, I also saw Arlene at the deli counter.

"Hey girl!" I said, pushing my shopping cart next to hers. "How you've been since I saw you last?"

"Hi there, Sookie! I'm good," Arlene replied, a little awkwardly.

"Good. That's good." I smiled. Arlene tried to do the same. I was going to ask her if everything was okay, but then the deli guy behind the counter gave her the quarter pound of turkey she wanted, and Arlene took it and all but ran off, calling out goodbye over her shoulder. Huh. Weird.

I finished doing my shopping, and it wasn't until I was home unloading groceries that it occurred to me that Arlene might have seen my Tru Blood, and that's why she was acting so funny. Shit. That was the last thing I needed, having the town gossip catching me buying Tru Blood. And I wasn't even working tonight, so she'd probably be running her mouth to anyone at Merlotte's who'd listen. Double shit.

Oh well. Maybe she didn't see the blood. Yeah. Maybe she was worried about Rene, her boyfriend, or her kids or something. Maybe she was just having a bad day. Or maybe I was just imagining things. Yeah, it was probably that.

After I finished having my mini panic-attack, I picked up a book (this one a mystery) and curled up on the swing outside, comfortable with the irony of reading a mystery novel about a serial killer while living in the house that was the closest to the local cemetery, besides the old Compton house.

Wait.

Shit.

Not good. NOT GOOD.

FUCK!

Across the cemetery is the old Compton house. The old COMPTON house. The one that had been in the Compton family for generations. The one that old Jesse Compton had been living in until he died about three months ago. The one that was the closest house to mine, just separated by the cemetery and a small patch of trees.

Oh my God. Oh. My God.

THAT'S why Bill's scent went into the graveyard—he was going back home! And Eric didn't bother following him because, hey, what are the chances that the vampire would live RIGHT NEXT DOOR TO ME? I know this is all guess work, but isn't it a little too convenient that Jesse Compton dies, after living for eighty-something years, and Vampire Bill, whoever he is, gets to move in to the house right next door to me? How long had Bill been living in that house—if he even was living in that house? Jesse Compton didn't have any kin that I knew of—and if he did I probably would, since this is such a small town that everyone knows everything about everyone—so Bill would be able to just move on in and no one would even know. _No one would even know_.

Shit.

I forgot all about the book and sprinted over to the graveyard. The Comptons were an old Bon Temps family—I think they were one of the founders, maybe. They'd definitely been around here for as long as the Stackhouses, maybe even later. So Bill was a Compton—and with his Southern accent I'd say he was. Although you'd think with at least—wait, when was the last time Eric saw him? Eighty years ago? Whatever, you'd think that after eighty-plus years he'd be able to get rid of that ridiculous Southern accent. But if he was a Compton, he'd probably be buried in the Compton plot at the cemetery

I had attended Jesse's funeral and kind of remembered the general area where he was buried. It was right by that funny-looking tree … that had just popped up over there, to my right! I skidded to a halt. Okay. It was around here somewhere, the headstone. I went over to where the smallest and dirtiest headstones were, figuring that if he was at least eighty years ago his headstone would be looking kind of rough, and started reading names and dates. Boy there were a lot of Comptons—but there weren't any Bill Comptons.

Then I saw one for a William Thomas Compton, born April 9, 1840 and died 1868.

Bing-fucking-o.

Bill was a nickname for William. This gravestone was at least eighty years old. And even though I thought Bill looked older than twenty-eight years old, I'm sure life was harder back then. Plus, judging from his tombstone, he had been a Confederate soldier—the Descendents of the Glorious Dead always placed Confederate flags next to the graves of Confederate soldiers, and there was one planted firmly next to his name.

Looked like I definitely wouldn't be running out of things to talk to Eric about while we did God knows what on my night off.

…

**A/N: It's all coming together now, isn't it? I know this was a baby chapter, but the next chapter will be a "night" chapter with lots o' Eric!**

**Oh, and you've probably noticed this, but I'm kind of blending True Blood/SVM for Jason (in the books, he was off with some chick named Dee Anne, instead of hooking up with Maudette) but that's because I liked the TB plot line better than the SVM plot line (IKR!) ... but ONLY for Jason! LOL.**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Um. These characters aren't mine. Yeah. But these mistakes are, since I added some stuff after I sent it to my beta. Yeah. **

**Speaking of my beta: chiisai-kitty, who not only betas everything super good, super fast, also finds the time to tweet with me about the clothing on True Blood. Seriously. Tonight we talked about the symbolism of the lace worn by Sookie and Lorena, and also the necessity of unbuttoning Alcide Hevreaux's plaid shirt in a bar fight.**

**I love her so hard. **

…

I walked back to my house dazedly. The mystery novel I had been reading before my revelation seemed stupid compared to my own mystery that I had stumbled on. I had my mysterious target of suspect, Bill, as well as the handsome and witty partner with whom I'd bounce ideas off of, Eric. All I needed was a trench coat, really. And a primetime television show.

And I needed time to go by faster, so Eric could wake up and I could tell him everything I found out today.

Reading was so out of the question now—as was watching TV. There was no way I could concentrate to even the simplest story line, not when I was having trouble following my own personal one. I could have cooked dinner, but I worried my mind was too frazzled to pay attention to recipes and measuring. I was in no condition to be near hot appliances and sharp knives.

I made my way upstairs and flopped onto my bed. God, I was such a child, hiding under the covers when I found out a vampire was kinda sorta maybe stalking me. At least, I thought he was. There were too many coincidences. Waaaaaaay too many.

I was a little hot under all the blankets, what with my socks and my jeans and an old zip-up hoodie. But I was too lazy, and too tired, to really do anything about it. I fumbled to take my socks off, but with my feet. It took a while, but finally they were off. And then I stuck my feet out, so that they were peeking out of the blankets, and that was a little better. I hugged the blankets around me and even pulled a sheet over my head, so I looked completely covered. I felt safe. Immature and childish, but safe.

So I tried to go to sleep, take a nap, but then I kept thinking about all the things this Bill Compton fella could do to me. And I couldn't have that. So I tried counting sheep, but once I got into the three hundreds I stopped that. Then I tried thinking of everything that was black, the color of my eyelids when they were closed. Because black equaled darkness which equaled sleep which equaled night which equaled Eric being up. And that worked in my mind.

Okay. I can do this. Black. The cookie part of an Oreo. The color of my driveway, which I still needed to get paved. The color that was the zebra's stripes, or the zebra's background, or whatever. The color of the licorice-y jelly beans that I would always give to Gran, because she actually liked them, but now I just threw them out. The color of the pants part of my waitress uniform. The color of …

…

I woke up being nuzzled. That was a nice way to wake up—a strong arm wrapped around me, a solid chest behind me, and a chin in the crook of my shoulder. Eric, I thought sleepily. I smiled lazily and moved back, so I'd be even closer to him. I sighed contently and stretched my body out, so it'd fit his.

_Wait._ Eric got his memories back. Eric doesn't live with me anymore. Eric wouldn't be in my bed.

I stilled, body now rigid, and pushed back against a set of rock-hard shoulders.

"Sookie, it's me," a familiar voice murmured.

"Eric?" I whimpered, even though I knew without a doubt it was him.

"Yes." My body relaxed, and Eric lifted his hand and reassuringly rubbed my arm, his fingers somehow managing to penetrate through the fabric of my sweatshirt and getting right to me. I still melted under his touch.

I was dreaming. That had to be it. I was in a dream.

"You know, this is exactly how I saw you the last time," Eric whispered, his lips meeting my ear like the old friends that they were. "Except, now you are wearing more clothes."

He smiled in my hair.

I muttered, "Some dream." The only way this dream could get any better was if we were nakey. Damn, my imagination stunk.

Eric stopped rubbing my arm. "What did you say?"

Even though he couldn't see me, I still furrowed my brow. "I said, some dream."

"Sookie … this isn't a dream." He found my hand and pinched the skin on the back of it. It hurt. "See? No dream. This is real."

The fuck? My jaw dropped. This was real life, and Eric was still in my bed, curled up next to me?

… Voluntarily?

"Sookie?" Eric asked softly, bringing me out of my shock.

"Yeahuh?" I replied, still not capable of real words. Eric was in my bed. _Eric_ was in MY bed.

"Why did you think this was a dream?"

I paused and took a deep breath. "Because I … um, because I thought it was too good to be true."

Eric didn't know what to say to that, and frankly I didn't blame him. He came up with silkily murmuring, "Well then … looks like your dream came true." He resumed slowly rubbing up and down my arm.

"Yeah, well, that's probably because I had a nightmare of a day," I muttered, low but of course not low enough for Eric not to hear it.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" he replied thoughtfully.

My heart was speeding up now, for him to hear and me to feel. He was acting so much like Amnesia Eric right now. I rolled over so I was facing him. He was still under the covers, like me, and as far as I could tell he wasn't wearing his shirt.

No word on the pants situation, though.

His face was now inches away from mine. We were, as Eric would say, within kissing distance.

I said the first thing that came to mind. "Eric, I found out Bill lives in an abandoned house across the graveyard, and that's why his tracks led there." I sounded and felt more awake than ever.

Out of all of the things I could have told Eric about my day, I had picked the one to zap out any sexual tension. Eric instantly sat straight up as soon as I finished talking, the covers floating back down to the bed after being thrust up by the motion of his body.

He was wearing pants.

"That is a nightmare," he groaned. He looked so serious, especially compared to the lazy, cat-in-the-sun grin he'd had on earlier. That worried me.

I sat up too, so now we were sitting upright on my bed, still very close. Our knees were almost touching. We were facing each other, legs crossed Indian-style.

"It's the old Compton house. It's been in that family for at least two hundred years, just like my house has been in the Stackhouse family. Eric, Jesse Compton died like three months ago, and I thought that house was just abandoned. But it all makes sense, don't you see?"

Eric nodded. "It makes sense. But it shouldn't. Why would Bill Compton want to move back to the very spot he was human? Why here? Why now?"

"You know what I think? I think it's recent. I mean, yes, Jesse Compton died a couple months ago, but I feel like Bill would have come over when you were staying with me, you know? Wouldn't he, like, sense or smell you?"

"If he came this way, yes. And if he's been living here for a long time, then he would have went to Merlotte's sooner, don't you think?"

"Yeah!" I said enthusiastically. "It's just like what you said—why here? Why now?"

"I didn't even know he was in the area. And I should have." He ran a hand through his hair, something he did whenever he was upset. I hated that I knew that.

"Oh come on, it's not your fault," I said kindly, thinking he was beating himself up because he didn't follow Bill's tracks more last night. "I mean, what are the chances that he'd live right next door? You didn't know any better."

Eric shook his head. "I should have. You see, because I'm the sheriff of this area, any and all vampires traveling through it, or wanting to settle in it, are required to see me and get my authorization. If Bill was planning on staying in this house, on living in this town, or even visiting his grave, he should have paid me a visit. But he didn't. He should have, but he didn't. And he's an old enough vampire that he would know this."

We exchanged a look. Whoever this Bill was … he meant business. I could tell by the look on Eric's face that he was pissed.

"What are we going to do now?" I asked, sounding as small as my voice sounded.

Eric studied me. Then he abruptly turned and got out of bed, bending over and giving me a view of that gorgeous ass as he reached for the shirt. He put it on, turning towards me to speak as he lifted his arms. When I was sure the shirt was over his face, I smiled giddily, only to completely rearrange my face into a hopefully concerned expression once the shirt was fully in place.

"Now, instead of talking more about your day or all the presents you left for me in my resting place, which is what I really want to do," he said, gesturing to the blanket on the floor, "I am going to the Compton house to have a talk with Bill. And now he's making me even more angry and fed-up than before. You are going to stay here, and don't leave the house whatever happens."

He walked over to my side of the bed, which I was still sitting on. He took a seat next to me, and I shifted so that we were now sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.

"I know it's pretty silly to worry about a vampire … but you'll be okay, right Eric?" I asked timidly.

He smiled softly, turning his head to look at me. I did the same, so we were gazing into each other's eyes. "I'll be fine. I'm over a thousand years old, and Bill is just a baby compared to me, at 140. If he fights, I will fight back harder. If he lies, I will know." He paused before nudging my shoulder with his and joked, "Besides, I am Eric Northman."

"Right, right," I laughed. "I forgot you're like the vampire version of Chuck Norris."

Eric surprised me by laughing and saying, "Right. I have heard of him, this Chuck Norris. He wears a live rattlesnake as a condom. And there is no theory of evolution, just the animals that Chuck Norris allows to live."

I snorted. "Or, Chuck Norris can slam a revolving door, and divide any number by zero. And he ordered a Big Mac at a Burger King once and got one."

Eric smiled. "Or, Chuck Norris doesn't read books—he just stares them down until he gets the information from them. And before the Bogeyman goes to bed, he has to check his closet for Chuck Norris."

"It takes Chuck Norris twenty minutes to watch _Sixty Minutes_. And when he does a pushup, he doesn't lift his body up—he pushes the Earth down."

"Good one! When Chuck Norris crossed the road, no one dared to ask why."

"Thanks! When Chuck Norris falls in water, Chuck Norris doesn't get wet. Water gets Chuck Norris."

As soon as we both calmed down a little, Eric said, "So you got it wrong, then. I'm not the vampire version of Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris is the human version of me."

Well, that just made me burst out laughing again. Eric joined in too. He added, "But he is not nearly as handsome or sexy as me."

I rolled my eyes. "True."

"And if Chuck Norris ever tried to fight me, I hate to say this, but he'd get vampire roundhouse-kicked in his wrinkly sunburned face."

"True."

It's amazing how a few jokes and laughs can completely brighten the mood. I was feeling much better now, all because of Eric. He was looking a lot more relaxed too.

"So you see? I will be fine. No," he said, and I looked up at him when he said that. He waited until we were staring at each other to firmly add, "I will be more than fine. I will be Eric Northman."

I smiled at him, and he got off the bed to stand up. I did too.

"I'm not sure how long this will take, but I don't want you to stress about it," Eric said, looking over his shoulder at me as he started walking down the stairs.

I nodded my head. "I'll just make myself dinner or something. Oh—I almost forgot! I bought some True Blood at the grocery store today."

Eric stopped walking and turned around to face me. "Wait to eat, until I come back. Please. That way I can have my True Blood while you eat your food, and you can tell me more about your day and what I found in the closet."

A retard smile came on my face. I almost asked him if he somehow got his memories back, because he was acting so much like Amnesiac Eric. "Sure."

"Good." Eric smiled and turned around to walk down the stairs. I was glad about that, because that way he wouldn't be able to see my stupid grin or the obscene way I was ogling his ass.

He walked over to the front door and opened it, stepping out onto the porch. I followed, with neither of us saying anything.

"Go … go Eric Northman his ass!" I finally said, pointing out to where the old Compton house was.

Eric laughed. "I shall." And with one long, final look at me, he vampire speeded away to go do just that.

I stood outside for a little while longer, and then walked back into the kitchen. What would be quick, and easy to make for dinner—and also be distracting? I ended up going with a pizza bagel and salad.

Having already fixed up a salad, I was just taking the pizza bagel out of the toaster oven when there was a knock on the back door. I was on my way over there to open it when the door swung open and Eric strode in, carefully closing the door behind him.

"Eric!" I smiled, walking over to him to give him a hug. If he had snuggled with me earlier, surely it'd be okay to hug him? I almost stopped myself halfway, but I was encouraged by the sight of him walking over to me too.

"Sookie," he said, opening his arms. I stepped in and wrapped my arms around him, smiling as I felt one of his hands cradle the back of my head, fingers losing themselves in my hair.

"How'd it go?" I murmured into his shirt.

"Disappointing," he replied, and I pulled back slightly to look at his face.

"What do you mean?"

"He wasn't there," Eric said flatly.

"But isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes and no." He shrugged his shoulders, and walked over to the kitchen table to sit down—same spot he sat down in last time. I took the seat across from him, all thoughts about dinner or hugging out of my mind.

Once we were settled he continued, "He hasn't been there since last night; his scent was very faint, and the only one I could follow was the same one I followed last night. But it's his house. I didn't need an invitation inside; that's how you can tell a vampire lives there. I also found discarded True Blood bottles in a recycling bin, and smelled him everywhere. So it's definitely his house, that's for sure."

"Oh." I made a face. "Well, at least we know that now, for sure."

"Yes."

"Oh! Speaking of True Bloods, would you like me to get you one?"

"Yes, I'd like that very much. Thank you."

I nodded and picked a bottle of blood out of the fridge. I put it in the microwave and set down my pizza bagel, salad, and utensils on the table. "Want a glass?" I asked.

"Please."

I picked out a wine glass and poured the True Blood into that once it was done. I placed it on a napkin in front of Eric, who thanked me, and went to my seat to start eating.

Eric took a sip of the blood and waited until I took a couple bites out of my pizza bagel before he asked, "So explain to me the presents in my resting spot."

I almost spit out my food. Almost.

Eric looked amused. "Come on, I already told you twice I wanted to hear about it."

To his credit, he had. "Yeah, I know. I just wasn't expecting you to just come out and ask like that."

Looking unperturbed, Eric just shrugged his shoulders.

"Well," I started, "the clothes were the ones I bought for you at Walmart."

He nodded. "I figured as much. And the blanket?"

"I don't know, I had it with me in the car the first night I saw you, and I gave it to you because, you know, you were just wearing jeans and it was cold out. And it became, like, your blanket. Like, when I see it, I call it 'Eric's blanket' in my mind—because we'd lie on it when we talked in front of the fire or when we watched something on TV."

"Why wouldn't you put it back in your car, or in the living room? Why stuff it in my resting place?" Eric asked after a moment.

I hesitated before answering, "It hurt too much to look at. I put everything in your hidey hole the night you got your memories back."

Eric took a swig of his True Blood, apparently done with the questioning. I picked up my pizza bagel and took a bite.

"Now that that's cleared up … what else did you do today, besides doing what Pam would probably classify as _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ investigating?" Eric asked, setting his glass down and looking across the table at me.

I swallowed. "Um … not much. Went to the grocery store—bought your True Blood. Oh—Jason came by. It's the second time in two days he's come by, all before eleven in the morning, which is weird."

"I'll have to take your word for it. I've never met him."

Oh. Um. About that … "So, uh, what are we going to do tonight? And what on earth are we going to do about Bill?"

"I was thinking that we would go to Fangtasia. That's where I would go if I was Bill and I knew there was a chance that the Sheriff of the area knew I was unlawfully in his area. Quite frankly, I'm surprised he didn't even try to glamour you into forgetting you ever saw him—I would have. But that doesn't matter. We can wait for him to come to Fangtasia, and even if he doesn't show, you never read the employees at Fangtasia for me. Remember? You just read the customers."

"Yeah. I remember." I also remembered why I never got to read the employees, and from the way Eric had just gone silent, I'd say he was remembering too.

I took another bite and chewed slowly. "Okay. Okay, yeah. Fangtasia's fine. Um, I should probably get dressed for it."

"Why?" Eric asked curiously.

"Because you know … it's Fangtasia," I said, like that explained it all. Fangtasia was a club, so therefore I should get dressed up when I go to it. Right?

"Yeah. Fangtasia. A vampire bar teeming with desperate fangbangers," Eric said, sounding more disgusted than I would have expected. He leaned back in his chair. "What you're wearing is fine. In fact, I wish more of Fangtasia's patrons would wear normal clothes like what you have on, rather than that hideous black leather nonsense. Pam is not the only one who hates dressing up for Fangtasia, you know."

"I know. But suppose Bill shows up? And I'm there at Fangtasia? Won't he expect me to be, like, a normal fangbanger? Isn't that what we agreed on last night? If you're paying me so much attention, shouldn't I have to look like I would deserve it?"

"You would with what you are wearing now. All Bill would have to do is look at you and he'd see why you'd be with me," Eric replied honestly. And I don't know how he did it, but he sounded so sincere that I didn't doubt him. There wasn't any cheese-factor in that statement. None.

I blushed and stammered, "Although I appreciate what you're saying, Eric—and believe me, I do—um, I don't know, I feel like if Bill buys that I'm yours, or whatever, then he'll quit sniffing around me. You know what I mean?"

"Sure. And who am I to prevent a lady from beautifying herself even more? Although, I don't remember seeing any leather or corsets in your closet," Eric said, winking.

Oh my God. Who was this Eric? Whoever he is, can he be the permanent one?

I laughed. "Well, I have that purple dress I wore the last time to Fangtasia. Do you remember that?"

"The one that looked like it was painted on your body? Of course." He smiled quickly, not showing any teeth.

I blushed. A lot. "Uh, yeah. That would be the one. And I also have like, a red cocktail dress, and a black-and-nude lacey one. I think those would be the best ones."

"I did like the first dress you wore, the white one with red flowers," Eric said, remembering out loud.

"Really?" I asked, fascinated. I leaned in on my elbows so I'd be closer to him. I never would have guessed. From what I remembered of that night, I would have thought Eric was too busy being a jerk to notice what I was wearing. And I was surprised he remembered that dress too.

He nodded. "But I don't want Bill to see you in it. If he did, then he might try to take you away from me."

I smiled nervously, appreciating the compliment (duh) but not knowing if he was kidding. "Guess that means I'll just have to do some trying on, then," I said, getting up to clear the table. Eric picked up his bottle and walked over to the sink behind me, putting it in the sink.

Once I was done, I headed up the stairs and Eric sat down in the living room. When I reached my room, I went to my closet and grabbed the two dresses I hadn't worn to Fangtasia. I had to go to the bathroom, so I took one of the dresses with me there, thinking I could hit two birds with one stone.

I had forgotten to grab my strapless bra from the drawer, so I just took my bra off and stepped into the red one-shouldered dress. I tried to zipper it up, but the zipper was in the back so I only got it to go an inch or so before I couldn't do anything more about it. Whatever.

I walked back to the bedroom and almost had a heart attack when I saw Eric lying down on the bed, balancing his glass of True Blood on his chest. He put it on the night stand and sat up straight when I walked into the room and stopped.

"Your zipper isn't all the way up," he murmured, getting up and walking over to me. "Turn around. I'll do it for you." I obliged, and was awarded with the sensation of having one of Eric's hands placed on the small of my back while the other one slowly moved the zipper. I held my breath, and when he zipped me up some of the way, he stopped and carefully gathered all of my hair to one side, placing it over one shoulder so it wouldn't be in his way.

"There we go," he murmured once he was done.

I turned around to face him. "Thank you, Eric," I said, my voice sounding breathy for some reason.

He nodded. "It looks good on you. The color, especially."

"Again, thank you, Eric." I almost told him to take a mental picture so he'd have something to compare the other one with, but the look in his eyes told me he had already memorized how I looked.

I ducked my head and walked over to the mirror. Eric was right. The dress looked damn good on me, if I did say so myself.

"Okay. On to the next one," I said after a moment, brushing past Eric to go back to the bathroom.

"Would you like me to unzip you?" he asked, stopping me in my tracks.

Whoops, I had forgotten about that. "Oh yeah, that'd be great."

He did. Slowly. All the way down.

"I can't tell you how familiar this all feels … being in this room, lying in your bed, touching you. It's as if I know that there are things that happened here, in your house, in your room, in your bed, with you … but I don't know what they are. It's fucking annoying," he said slowly, looking at me the whole time, watching my expression. Which was, stupefied.

There was heavy silence then, as we gazed at each other.

"I really ought to try on the other dress," I finally managed to get out. Eric nodded a little and sat back down on the side of the bed.

With trembling legs, I walked back into the bathroom and changed into the next dress, the nude one with off-the-shoulder bands and black lace; the pattern looked like it could be on one of the fancy lingerie bras or nighties I'd see in the windows of the Victoria's Secret at the mall in Monroe. The fact that my skin was almost, almost the same color as the nude undertone of the dress made it even sexier—and made me feel even sexier.

Unfortunately, this dress had a side-zipper, so I didn't need Eric to zip me up. Damn.

But I knew right away that this was the dress I'd be wearing to Fangtasia, and the special romantic-movie-star way that Eric looked at me when I entered the room only cemented my decision.

He didn't speak for a couple seconds, until he huskily murmured, "There's no way you're not mine when you're wearing that."

Good Lord, when he said things like that, I just wanted to jump him. Pure and simple.

I settled for spinning around and saying, "I take it you like it, then?"

"But of course."

"Good. 'Cause it's the one I'm wearing," I said, walking to the dresser and opening the underwear drawer. I settled for a nude strapless bra and a plain black thong, since I thought they fit with the theme of the dress.

"I'm going to go and do my makeup and stuff, but I'll try not to be too female and leave you waiting forever!" I continued, walking back to the bathroom. I turned around and saw that Eric went back to sitting on the bed.

Once in the bathroom I changed and put some makeup on—I tried doing "cat-eyes" with my eyeliner and I thought it looked okay, so I went with that and some red lip gloss, since I didn't actually own any red lipstick (never had a reason, until now, maybe). I parted my hair to the side and twisted it into a low bun, so that with my hair out of the way my shoulders and collar bone would be highlighted better, since they were on display thanks to the dress. The whole thing only took about twenty minutes, and I was almost as proud as that as I was with myself, for looking and feeling so good tonight.

Smiling, I walked back to the bedroom and saw that Eric was exactly as I left him, sitting on the side of the bed. He was staring at my wall, and it wasn't until I walked in the room that he kind of shook himself and came out of this, well, vampire down-time I guess. It seemed like he had been sleeping but without actually sleeping and without actually closing his eyes. Ever since I walked in the room he looked wide awake.

I walked over to the closet and picked out the black clutch and the heels I had brought to Fangtasia the last time I went, and after that I was all set.

As Eric went to put his glass in the sink, I put some money, my license, and my lip gloss in the clutch and said good bye to Tina, who was lounging on the couch.

___Eric walked in the living room then. "Ready to go?"_

_"__Yep. You?"_

_"__Yes. It's exciting, don't you think?" he said, walking out the front door. _

_"__What is?" I asked. _

_"__Not having any idea how this night is going to turn out." He glanced at me and grinned. _

___Walking over to the driver's side of my car and unlocking it with my key, I replied, "Now you know how I feel whenever I go to Fangtasia." _

___He waited until we were both in the car to say, "Then you should come to Fangtasia more often."_

_…_

**A/N: As awesome as it would be, I did not come up with those Chuck Norris facts. *sad panda* If you're looking for a laugh, I would highly recommend going over to**

**http:/www. chucknorrisfacts. com/chuck-norris-top-50-facts **

**A/N 2: So if you have me on author alert, then you would have seen that I posted an outtake of DTMW yesterday. It's for my good friend AlisonbyNumbers/Northman Maille, and a bunch of us Sookieverse ladies came together and shared little stories we wrote as a ginormous get-well-soon gift for Alison. The fic is called, "Forget 'Dear Abby,' this is for Dear Ali!" is told in Pam POV, from the part in chapter 7 where Sookie calls Pam for advice about vampire teeth; I remembered Alison really liked that scene, so I kind of, err, revamped it for her! It can be found on my author page and also the author page that was created for this whole thing, http:/www. fanfiction. net/u/2419303/Alison_beads_of_fiction. And in lieu of leaving reviews, I'd rather you left get well wishes for Alison! **

**A/N 3: Soooooo, Eric and Sookie are holding a little stakeout for Bill the next chapter, huh? Bwahahaha. That should be up in a couple of days, just putting the finishing touches on it now. **


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: EEK! Chapter 30! Over 1500 reviews! I don't know which I'm more surprised over. I can tell ya what, I definitely didn't expect either of those when I started writing this story! So Viking-sized thank yous to all of you guys, the readers. Seriously. **

**I think this is either my favorite, or tied-for-favorite chapter (the other one being chapter 5, where Eric and Sookie meet Pam and Chow for the first time) so I'm gonna make this A/N quick—thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty and my "maker" CH. **

**Also, this is a happy birthday present to my friend hawkgirl27, whose birthday is today, the 29th! I know I'm cutting it close, but happy birthday girly!**

…

The drive to Fangtasia was pretty uneventful, until we actually got there and Eric said I could park next to his spot. He pointed it out to me—it was around the back of the club, on the other side of the building that also had the employee entrance. There was a white sign with red letters that simply read, "Don't Even Think About It" and had the Fangtasia logo in the corner.

I wished I had packed a camera because I wanted documentation that this silly little sign even existed. Seriously, a parking sign that just read, "Don't Even Think About It?" Genius. I thought the silliest road sign I'd ever seen was one that had a picture of a deer with a red reflective light on the nose, so it looked like Rudolph.

I pulled up next to his Corvette—which I guess he left at Fangtasia over-day—and we both got out of the car.

He vampire speeded around the car so he could meet with me. "Here, we can go in this door. It goes directly to my office," he explained, pointing out a door right next to his car.

"Oh. That's convenient."

"And practical. It's in case something ever happens at Fangtasia," Eric said frankly. Oh. I hadn't thought of that.

He took a set of keys from his pocket and inserted one in the door handle, and then he typed some numbers on a touchpad on the wall, and then after all that work the door opened and he held it for me. "After you."

I hesitantly stepped in to a small room, about the size of the bathroom stall at Merlotte's. I could barely see in front of me, and I stiffened a little when what little light came in from outside disappeared and I heard the door close.

"Relax, Sookie," Eric chuckled, placing a hand on my shoulder as he brushed past me. He opened another door, one in front of where I was standing even though I couldn't see it. Once he got it open, a brighter light streamed in the room again, and I could tell we were in Eric's office. I walked further out and saw we were directly behind his desk—where the wall had been. I never would have guessed it was a trap door, but I also guessed that was kinda the point.

"I'm going to go change, but why don't you head out into the bar? Pam's there; she'll keep you company until I'm back," Eric said, his back to me as he closed the door. He turned around and walked over to where I was standing by the chair in front of his desk. "I won't be female and make you wait forever."

I smiled when I heard him using the phrase I had said to him earlier this evening when was getting ready. "Okay, sure. See ya out there," I said, going out the door that would lead to the barroom of Fangtasia.

Pam was waiting for me down the hall, her hair pulled back in a French braid. She was wearing a black dress shirt belted around the waist with a skinny red belt, a gray pencil skirt, and maroon pumps. She even had on black pearl earrings.

"Pam, you look … nice," I said. "Really. I like it."

"Thanks," she said, giving me a once over. "I could say the same to you." She turned around to open the door. "It's a compromise. Eric said that because of what I did last night, I didn't have to wear a vampire costume to work and could wear whatever I wanted, as long as it was dark."

I snorted, but she didn't say anything about it.

Once we were in the club she started heading towards Eric's booth, oblivious to the stares we were getting. I followed behind her, and sat down across from her once we got to the table. Pam lifted a finger, and immediately Taryn the vampire speeded over with a gin and tonic for me. She was a black Fangtasia tank top and red booty shorts and did not look like a happy camper. "Your drink, Miss Stackhouse," she murmured.

"Thank you," I said. She nodded and walked off.

"Eric said that was because of you," Pam said, jutting a chin in the direction of Taryn.

I nodded. "Yep."

"Nice job," she said appraisingly, turning to look at me.

"Thanks."

"Did I momentarily lose my vampire hearing, or did I just hear Pam compliment someone?" Eric smirked, walking up to our table. Pam huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Don't get too used to it," Pam snapped back.

Eric winked at me, and I giggled.

"I mean it," she pouted.

"Sure you do," Eric said, winking at me again.

"Guess that just means I'm not the only person overly fond of Miss Sookie Stackhouse," Pam said breezily, raising an eyebrow at him as she stood up to leave. In her pumps she was almost as tall as Eric—not exactly, because who was?—and she used that to her advantage now, getting all up in his face. They had a three second stare-down, and then Pam click-clacked away. Eric slid into the booth and took her spot.

"You guys are like brother and sister," I said once he was settled in.

"Yeah, if I'm the older brother," he replied smoothly.

I laughed, shaking my head. "You just proved my point."

"You're welcome. Taryn?" He held up a finger, like Pam did. And Taryn whizzed over again, this time with a bottle of True Blood.

"Master," she said respectfully, bowing her head. She placed it on the table, not lifting her head up an inch.

"That's all," he said, dismissing her. She nodded and zoomed away.

"Like I said, no problems whatsoever," Eric said, eyes still on Taryn. "Pity you won't be able to read her later tonight, with all of the other employees. That would have been … interesting."

"Yeah. Well. She doesn't know I'm the one who put her on waitressing duty, right?" I asked.

"Of course not." Eric glanced at me and smiled a fangy smile. "Why, do you want her to?"

"Oh God no! I don't want to have to worry about her spitting in my drink or something," I replied, lifting my glass up to take a sip.

"Oh, you'd know if she did."

"What? Is vampire spit red or something? Yuckola!" I blurted, thinking that's why Eric said that, since a gin and tonic's clear as day. I quickly set the glass back on the table.

Eric burst out laughing. I crossed my arms. Hmmph. It wasn't my fault I didn't know that! It's not like I'd ever seen actual vampire spit. Whenever I'd been in contact with it, the last thing on my mind was checking out what color vampire saliva was.

"I meant, Taryn's pretty confrontational," he finally managed. "She'd say or, in a worst-case scenario, do something to you, if she knew. That's why I said you'd know."

"Oh." I was suddenly acutely aware of my hair color.

"And for the record, vampire spit is the same color as human spit," he added.

"Got it."

"With the exception of tears, which are made of blood and are therefore red, the same applies for all other bodily fluids that we are still capable of producing."

"Yep."

"Just so we're clear."

"Oh, believe me, we are."

We sat quietly for a couple seconds, him smirking and me stewing. I wanted to smack myself on the forehead, but that wouldn't really help me feel any better. Eric would get a laugh out of it, though. Even now, he'd smile to himself—I caught him doing that once or twice.

"Okay, so I guess that was kind of funny," I finally admitted, a small grin creeping onto my face.

"Kind of," Eric said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly while his eyes twinkled merrily.

"Oh, alright, it was stupid funny," I laughed. "You can laugh about it now. I know you want to."

"You mean, laugh with you, and not just at you," he chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah."

He cleared his throat. "So, do you want to read the employees now? Or would you like to wait until after work, and do it one-by-one, interview style?"

"Depends on how many employees there are."

"Right now there's only the waitresses and vendors, and there's twelve of them. I have an end-of-the-month meeting with the accountant of Fangtasia on Saturday night—I'd like you to sit in on that."

"Yeah, that's fine. I'm not doing anything then. And, well, since I don't have anything better to do now, I can just pick out the thoughts of the workers."

"Ouch," Eric said.

I blushed. "Oh my gosh, Eric, I swear I didn't mean for it to come out like that! Honest to God!"

"I know. I was just kidding," he said, winking for good effect. "It's not like our stakeout for Bill has been very productive."

"Stakeout. Good one. Did you come up with Fangtasia too?" I kidded.

"Of course." I rolled my eyes at him and he laughed. "What? It is funny."

"Yeah … if you're into puns."

"Oh, but that makes it even punnier!"

"Oh, give it a rest," I retorted, loving this whole conversation.

He grinned. "As you wish."

"Alright. That's enough of that. Now I'll just—hey! Look! That's the girl I found here, the one in the bathroom!" I said, pointing at the familiar strawberry blonde woman walking to the bar.

"Ginger? Yes, that's her. I'd call her over so she could thank you in person, but Pam glamoured her into forgetting the whole thing. The other one too. Belinda," he explained, taking a sip of True Blood once he was done.

"Oh, that's fine. I'm just glad they're back and working again. They seem okay. Except last week when you asked Ginger to put the Christmas-themed Fangtasia hats— wait a sec, Eric, you made Santa Claus hats with a fangy smiley face on them? _Really_?"

"Yes, and everyone loved them," he said defensively, crossing his arms. His sense of humor was too big for his own good.

"Okayyyyy. Anyhoo, when you asked her to put them in storage, she took a couple home with her to save as gifts," I reported. "But other than that, she's clean. The only thing she's worried about is remembering to pick up some iron supplements at the drugstore once she gets off from work."

"Noted."

"Okay. Now Belinda—she's Belinda then is a little worried Ginger. She thinks Ginger's being used too much by the vampires—for blood and sex, not for, like, work hours or something. But other than that, she's clean."

I went on to read the other employees, and except for a couple late-arrivals to work and vampire feeding (all consensual—apparently it was okay to feed on Fangtasia staff but not its customers) there wasn't really anything to report.

By the time it was all done, Taryn had already took away my finished gin and tonic, brought me a new one, took that one away too, and brought me a third, which I asked her to give to a sad college-aged guy that just found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him with his older brother. Eric only raised an eyebrow at me once Taryn went over to give it to him, and we both silently watched as the guy seemed to brighten up a little, and get his flirt on with Taryn.

"That was … thoughtful," Eric said, eyeing the way the guy was laughing now.

"Yeah. I just wish I thought to ask Taryn for a glass of water before she went off to go play Cupid," I replied.

"That can be arranged," Eric said, drawing his hand off of the table, where it had been resting, so he could signal for Taryn to come over again.

"Oh no you don't!" I cried, reaching over and covering his hand with mine. Of course, his hand was about twice the size of mine, but he got the memo and stopped, glancing at our hands.

"What? It is no problem," he said, sounding distracted.

"Yeah, I know. It's just, they seem to be getting along nicely, and the guy—Tom—hasn't thought about his girlfriend the whole time he's been talking to Taryn. He's in much better spirits now. I don't want to be the one to stop that."

"But you're thirsty," he said, still not getting the picture.

"Yeah, but it's not like Taryn's running a monopoly on getting me a drink. I can just walk over to the bar and get it myself. I've done that before, you know."

"Here's Ginger now. Ginger," Eric said loudly, and she teetered over on her five-inch spiky black heels. I took my hand off of Eric's when she came close, and Eric looked down for a second before he went back to watching Ginger come over.

"Yes, master?"

"Get a glass of water for my guest here," he said, gesturing to me. "Ginger, this is Sookie Stackhouse."

"Hi," she said, sticking a hand out for me to shake. "Name's Ginger."

_I know. I saved your life._ "It's nice to meet you," I said calmly, taking her hand. Wow. She really didn't remember me.

"I'll be right back with that water now. Do you want ice with it?" She smiled crookedly.

I stifled a giggle. "Yes, please."

"Alright. Be right back." She smiled and went off to the bar.

"Looks like Taryn's still talking to that guy," I said, nodding in their direction.

"I don't care what she's doing, as long as she's not feeding from him," he replied, eyes on me.

"Oh, I know! This can be like a test for her, to see if she'll do that!"

"I suppose so." Eric shrugged, reaching for his True Blood. The bottle was halfway to his mouth when he suddenly paused and slammed the bottle back on the table. He looked at me, hard. "Bill's here."

I gulped. "Oh shit." We looked at each other. "Eric," I said worryingly, after he didn't say anything.

"Get in my lap," he said quickly. "Now."

Without questioning it, I went over and did just that, straddling him as I threw my arms around his neck. He wrapped one hand around my waist and used his free hand to roughly push the table back towards the other side of the booth, to give us more room.

My face was mere inches away from Erics, my fingers were in his hair, and I was sitting on his lap—but that barely registered because I was so scared.

"Sookie, it's all right. It's going to be all right. You just have to listen to me and do everything I tell you to, okay?" Eric murmured, bumping my forehead with his. We were so close that his blue eyes morphed into a big Cyclops one, but I didn't look away. I nodded.

He continued, "You have to listen to me. I'm going to tell you to do things I normally wouldn't, and I'm going to treat you like I normally wouldn't, but you can't protest. Remember, you're just supposed to be another fangbanger."

"Okay," I whispered back.

"I wish I had thought to go over what to do when we saw him. I was … distracted. I shouldn't have been. But we'll have to wing it. Just follow my lead, okay?"

I had barely nodded my head when Eric suddenly pressed his lips against mine and started uprooting kisses from my lips. I guess that meant Bill was nearby, or maybe even coming towards us. I distracted myself by giving myself into Eric—not that that was hard. Despite the circumstances surrounding this, I was enjoying the kiss, being this close to Eric.

Eric seemed like he was really going for it. He was sucking hard on my bottom lip, both hands cupping my ass, when I managed to think of something other than Eric or his kisses or what sex with him was like. Amazing, I know.

I pulled back slightly. "Eric. It has to look like you fed from me, if we're going to make this believable" I whispered urgently into his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. He raised his eyes to meet mine, but didn't say anything. I continued, "Do it. I want you too."

He nodded fractionally and started kissing my neck. I'm sure to the naked eye—and hopefully vampire eye too—it seemed like he really was just necking. Which he was, but still. He licked the spot and nibbled on it slightly, and my breath hitched. As quietly and quickly as possible, he bit down, but the sensation was just as enjoyable as I remembered. He didn't take huge, long gulps—just small ones, but that didn't make it any worse. Hell, I'd say it was even better. _Much _better.

I wasn't even embarrassed knowing Eric could tell how turned on I was by this. Obviously he felt the same way, judging by the sudden hardness in his pants. I unconsciously rocked myself back and forth against him, and he let out a groan against my skin. This wasn't even about Bill anymore—it was just me and Eric. He was still a fantastic kisser, and it made me want to compare other things Amnesiac Eric had done to me alone, see how that would feel. Like, now.

Then he stopped taking my blood—he had only taken several mouthfuls—and licked up the remaining blood, taking care not to accidentally seal the bite marks by licking it. He paused, resting his face in the crook of my neck, and licked his lips clean of blood. Once he was done he started kissing me again, but this time even more passionately. I didn't even know that was possible, but I sure wasn't complaining. I ran my hands up and down Eric's chest, feeling all of his muscles and not even minding that I was pretty much groping him in public. He didn't mind either—he loved it.

I remembered that before, Amnesiac Eric had liked it when we made eye contact during sex, and I opened my eyes then. The fluttering of my eyelashes must have tipped Eric off, because he opened his eyes then too. Just as before, it was highly erotic watching him watch me. It made me feel even more connected to him—more so than when I was straddling his lap, hands on his chest, and having him plant the mother of all kisses on me.

Eric lightly squeezed my ass, and I moaned a little. He squeezed it again and tapped it slightly. After making sure I was watching him, he exaggeratedly looked to his right, where the bar was. I guessed he was trying to tell me that Bill was on his way. Oh. Well, he got extra points for creativity in my book for getting my attention by cupping my ass. I closed my eyes and reopened them again, trying to tell him I understood, and he winked at me as his tongue started running over my teeth. So fucking hot. My jaw dropped a little when he did that, and he took advantage of it by furthering the kiss.

"And here we are," I heard Pam say loudly, sounding like a bored tour guide. Eric gave me a quick, reassuring kiss on the lips, and then pulled back.

"Bill Compton. It has been a while. I was wondering if I was going to see you," Eric said calmly, smirking a little.

"Yes," Bill replied, sounding as stiff as he looked. He was wearing a black dress shirt, and black pants that puffed out a little where the pockets were. His hands had been at his side, but he stuffed them in his pockets.

"And you've already met Sookie," Eric smiled, sounding like he was enjoying this.

"Yes. Hello again," Bill said awkwardly, nodding at me while staring at my neck—where I assumed the bite marks were. He suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. Pam exchanged a smirk with Eric.

"Hello Mr. Compton," I said as politely as I could while straddling Eric's lap when he had a boner.

Eric laughed faintly and ran a hand up and down my back, sending shivers of joy racing down my spine. "I imagine you want to talk to me. Is that right, Compton?"

"You would be correct," Bill replied, graduating onto non-monosyllabic responses.

"Very well. Business is business." Eric looked back at me. "Alright, that's enough," he said, releasing his hold on me and pushing me to the side. He was facing me, his back towards Pam and Bill, and he raised an eyebrow, urging me to play along.

"But baby, we was just gettin' started," I whined, reaching out for him.

A spasm of a grin came across Eric's face, and he fought it back. "Baby?" he asked coldly, getting out of the booth. "I am over a thousand years old."

Pam laughed. Bill just stood there and looked at me. Eric went over there and stood next to him. Wow, Bill was like a little hobbit when he was next to Eric. I just knew Eric had done that to intimidate him.

I pouted and made a move to follow Eric out of the booth.

"Wait here," Eric commanded, holding out a hand to stop me. "I'll be back. I'm not finished with you yet."

I couldn't tell if he was pretending to glamour me, so I just nodded obediently.

"Good." Satisfied, Eric turned to Bill and Pam and shook his head. "Humans. Well then, shall we?" he asked, already striding away from the booth. The three of them started walking away, and I sank back into the plush interior of the booth, already worn out from tonight's activities.

"Here's your drink, miss. Sorry it took so long," Ginger said, coming up to the booth and placing my glass of water on the table. I quietly thanked her and drank it all in one big gulp.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Hi all! Not exactly the afalcone10 rapid posting, but it's here. I'm not saying this to be needy or get a compliment, but I had trouble with this one because I thought the previous chapter was so fantastic that it needed a follow-up chapter that kept that level up. **

**Thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty for going over this for me! And CH for giving me something to play with.**

…

After Ginger took away my glass and had to be told three times that I was fine, never better, just didn't need another drink at the moment even if it was water, I thought about what just happened. Because let's face it, A LOT just happened.

I wasn't even talking about the shit with Bill. As far as I was concerned, Bill was nothing. The only reason why he was even worth mentioning was that it was his presence that caused Eric and me to grow closer. Not just tonight—even though, damn, when we were making out we were so close it was hard to tell where Sookie started and Eric began—but earlier than that.

Like yesterday when Eric had rushed to my aid mere minutes after I called him at Merlotte's. When he had demonstrated that he had been paying attention to me, my interests and my likes, when he did something that he knew I wanted—no blood spilled on my behalf—by not killing the Ratrays. And not only that, but he intervened to make their life a whole lot better, not to mention a whole lot more legal.

And after all that, Eric had come home with me. He'd sat on the couch and watched TV with me! Talked about his life with me, when he was on the deep-sea diving show. Fuck, he'd carried me up to bed when I feel asleep on him! He had a sleep over with me! We ate together, talked together, and—best of all—laughed together. He even helped me get ready for tonight—and paid me many compliments too.

It was like what Eric and I did before he got his memories back.

It was like Eric was back to being Amnesiac Eric.

Were we going to be like Video Sookie and Video Eric any time soon? Permanently?

_God, I hoped so. _

But I didn't dwell on it. I didn't want to. And I didn't want to set myself up for it. Although it was possible. Right? Wasn't it? But it's just that … in the past, when I hoped for things with Eric … they didn't always pan out. And I didn't want to jinx me or Eric … or, us?

I mean, I knew Eric and I had been "pretending" earlier, for Bill's sake. But … but you couldn't "pretend" passion. You couldn't "pretend" to kiss with as much desire as he had. And, quite frankly, you couldn't "pretend" to have a boner … especially one as, err, substantial as Eric's.

I shook my head. No. That was enough. I wasn't going to go there, as tempting as it was.

Now I kinda wished I had taken Ginger up on her offer on another glass of water. I needed something to do with my hands while I sat alone in this booth. Actually, I just needed something to do, period.

I looked in my purse … money, license, and lip gloss. Nothing really to play with. Hmm. Wait, now that I thought about it, there might be an old library book in my car, one that I'd been meaning on returning but kept forgetting to do it. That could work. Even though I'd be reading a book in a vampire bar, I was fine with that. Maybe that'd like, send a message to all the fangbangers, that they should focus more on reading and their intelligence than their looks. Maybe. I mean, they were all looking at me anyways. Bill hadn't been the only person to witness the quasi-show Eric and I had just put on. I'd had to throw up my shields ever since Eric left, because almost everyone nearby was still looking at me, and definitely everyone nearby was still thinking about me. At least if I had something to read I wouldn't be so aware of it.

Well, that was that. I would just walk out to my car, get my book, walk back inside, and read. Nothing more, nothing less. I grabbed my clutch and maneuvered around everyone, finally making my way outside; I would have gone out the employee entrance, since that was closer to my car, but I didn't want to take any chances and screw up Eric's meeting with Bill. But I didn't mind the extra walk—it was quiet, and no one came up to me or said anything to me.

That is, until I reached my car and the door that I had gone into Fangtasia with, the door from Eric's office, swung open and Eric and Bill walked out.

Instead of seeming surprised, Eric and Bill just looked at me. Well, I'm not gonna lie, I stopped right in my tracks. What were they doing out here?

Bill gave Eric a funny little look, but didn't say anything. Eric smiled smugly at Bill, and then turned to me with a friendlier, much more genuine grin on his face. "What brings you out here, Sookie?" he asked.

"Um, I was bored inside waiting around for y'all to finish up," I started, and I stopped when I saw Bill smile, really smile, for the first time. I shook my head. Whatever. "I knew I had a book in my car, so I thought I'd just go outside, get it, and then come back in so I could read in the booth. Why?"

Now it was Eric's turn to look like the cat who ate the canary. He was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin, and Bill was looking none too pleased. "No reason," Eric said jovially, beaming at me like I just told him I pooped bars of solid gold.

Bill toed the gravel with his boot and muttered, "I guess she really is yours."

Eric stared at me before abruptly turning to Bill and saying, "Yes. Yes, she is. Go now. I will meet you there."

"Very well," Bill replied. He turned to me and did a little head-nod. "Good evening, Miss Stackhouse." With that, he vampire-speeded over to the regular parking lot, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

"Eric?" I asked. What the heck? '_I will meet you there?_' and _'She really is yours."_ What did that mean?

"Not here," he replied, glancing around. "Inside." He gestured to the door with one hand and placed the other on the small of my back. I walked inside, feeling protected and cared for. All from a simple touch from Eric.

"Okay, what just happened?" I asked. Eric was closing the door, and he walked over to me.

"Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?" Eric said quietly.

Uh oh. "Bad," I replied, lifting my chin up.

"Remember how I told you about the Queen of Louisiana?" he asked, eyes steadily meeting my gaze.

"Yeah. So? What does she have to do with any of this?" I didn't see where he was going with this. At all.

"It turns out she … has everything to do with this. I do not know how, but she knows about you, Sookie."

I gasped, and Eric closed his eyes briefly before opening them and continuing, "She knows about your telepathy too. She knows almost everything about you, and what she doesn't, she wants to, badly."

"Oh my God." I sat down in the chair in front of his desk. Eric came over and crouched in front of me, elbows on his thighs, so we were almost on the same level. His eyes seemed much bigger and bluer than they'd ever seemed, and I stared at them, their intense color the one constant keeping me afloat. "Oh my God. I can't even … what?" I asked, blinking a couple times.

Eric looked … pained? as he explained, "This is what I don't understand. She knew about you, and she knew about your telepathy. But she didn't know that we were involved. She didn't know about the witch war, she didn't know about me staying with you, and she _still_ doesn't know about my amnesia. But she knew you were a telepath."

"I can't even deal with that right now; we can worry about that later. But, where does Bill come into this?"

"She sent him to find you and get to know you and your ability better, to see if she could use you," Eric said quietly, looking at the floor.

"_What the FUCKING FUCK?_"

He nodded his head, slowly. "Thankfully, she didn't factor me into this scheme. Everything that she had planned for, everything that Bill was supposed to do, was thrown off its course once it became apparent that … I knew you and you knew me."

We stared at each other before Eric added, "Do you remember how Bill's tracks just kind of ran off that night, when I didn't follow them? He panicked and went back to New Orleans and told the queen everything that he had found out that night—about you thinking I would send a vampire for her, that you smelled of me, and that your house smelled of me. And then of course, once he came back to his house and discovered that I had been there, and therefore knew about his involvement with you, he told the queen that as well. And now I am being summoned to New Orleans, to meet with the queen and Bill."

"Shit, Eric!" I cried, leaning forward in my chair so I could be closer to him. "What do you think's going to happen?"

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Anything is possible. I don't know." He paused. "If I were the queen, I would, so to speak, recruit me. I have had your blood. I have intimate knowledge of you. I know where you live. You obviously prefer me to Bill, and feel more comfortable around me than with Bill; you'd be more likely to confide in a vampire you trusted, and it'd be theoretically easier for that to happen with one you are already intimate with. As Bill saw earlier, you heel nicely. When Bill said you truly were mine, it's a phrase vampires use to claim a stake on a human. I had to say you were mine to protect you from Bill and the queen. No other vampire can feed from you without my permission—which they will never, ever get."

I thought about that. I wasn't too crazy about this whole "Dibs on the blond blood bag! Human is MINE" business. But … I was thankful for it. I had to be. From what Eric was telling me, it had saved me tonight—Eric's protection, and his possessiveness. And it seemed like it would continue to save me every night from now on. What would be happening if Eric hadn't said I was his?

Eric reached out and took my hand. His grip was soft and steady and just what I needed.

"So now I'm _yours_?" I asked hesitantly, trying the words out. I would have gladly said them in a different, less chauvinistic context.

"As far as other vampires are concerned, yes."

"So I've been upgraded from fangbanger to someone worth having," I mused. I tried to compare my situation, so it'd be easier for me to comprehend. "Like a mistress to girlfriend."

Eric's face tightened, his lips retreating into a small, flat line. He gripped my hand a little harder as he urgently said, "Like I said, as far as other vampires are concerned, yes. But as far as this particular vampire is concerned, no. Absolutely not."

We looked at each other. Eric broke the silence by adding, "You never were a fangbanger. You were always someone worth having."

"Because of what I knew," I said flatly.

"Originally, yes. I'll admit it. At first. But not now. Not for a long time." Eric sighed. "Damnit Sookie, I don't even know if we'll be able to have a relationship to grumble over like we are now."

"What do you mean?" I asked worriedly, feeling my stomach tighten. I squeezed his hand comfortingly as I added, "Eric?"

"I assume the queen wants you for your telepathy. She'd make you her pet."

I frowned. I remembered what a pet was for vampires—pretty much the opposite of man's best friend. More like man's best takeout menu.

"I don't want to be her pet," I said, feeling and sounding like a helpless child.

"And you won't, if I'm able to prevent that from happening. But, Sookie, I really need to leave. Bill's already got a head-start to New Orleans. If I leave now, I should arrive a little sooner than Bill—he's driving his car, and I'm flying to the palace. It would be most beneficial to both of us, meaning me and you, if I was able to speak to the queen alone, before he showed up."

His logic seemed valid, but I was so confused and overwhelmed I didn't know what to do, a problem Eric clearly didn't seem to be having.

I didn't let go of his hand. Eric slowly brought mine to his lips and kissed it. He was watching me the whole time, and his lips lingered on the back of my hand. He didn't say anything, but his eyes did—he was feeling as uneasy about this as I was, but he was trying not to show it. He wanted to be brave for me, to comfort me and show that everything was going to be alright, and my heart swelled because of it. He brought my hand back to my knee and stood up. I rose with him and watched him walk over to the secret door and open it. He took a look back at me and cocked his head for me to follow.

Once we were outside he closed the door, locked it, and turned to face me.

Neither of us said anything, just content to gaze and memorize. I brilliantly remembered something from before and said, "So what's the good news?"

Eric's eyes lit up as he said, "Well, we kissed tonight, didn't we?"

I laughed, and then very quickly realized we were definitely within the realms of kissing distance. That got me to stop laughing. And start tilting my head. And relaxing my mouth. And watching Eric's lips.

It was almost in slow-motion, the way Eric's hand came up to my face and cradled my cheek. But not laughable, oh-my-God-_really?_ slow-motion—more like the kind that's necessary to see the way Eric was watching me the whole time to gauge my reaction, how his hand was moving so slowly so I'd have more time to pull away. He wasn't so much nervous as he was … patient. Now that we didn't have to "act," he wanted this to be real. I did too.

When his hand finally, FINALLY made contact with my skin, I shivered. I fucking shivered. It wasn't cold, and I wasn't scared, but I still shivered. Eric saw me shiver, felt me shiver. Hell, he probably heard me shiver.

As his thumb stroked my cheek, he dipped his head a little, smiling faintly. His eyes never strayed from my lips, and mine never strayed from his as they got closer and closer. And closer. And even more closer.

And then, wouldn't you know it, Pam just HAD to zoom over that moment and stop right next to us. Fuck it, Pam! Usually I loved Pam; she was fun to talk to, she made me laugh, and she had great clothes. Unfortunately, I didn't love her so much that I wasn't extremely pissed off at her right now for ruining what would have been a magical moment.

Eric felt the same way, closing his eyes and murmuring something in a different language. I would have bet he was swearing in Swedish. "Little busy here, Pamela," he said exasperatedly, opening his eyes.

Unperturbed, Pam replied, "Eric, you must leave. Now. Save the kissing for later; there might not be a later if you don't get your ass in gear."

Eric sighed.

"You know I'm right," Pam said smugly.

Eric muttered something again. "Message received, Pam," he said out loud, dismissively. She laughed and walked away—human walk, not vampire speed.

Eric looked back at me and took hold of my face, one hand on either side. He swooped his head down until our foreheads were touching, like they had been back in the club before he did what I hoped what he was going to do again.

He whispered, "I want you to know that I will fight for you, as you fought for me." And before I could reply, before I could really digest that, he gave me a soft, tender kiss on the lips, one that made me believe everything he had just said.

And just like that, it was too beautiful and too familiar and way too quick, because not soon after Eric had to break the kiss off, take a step back, and start flying into the night sky. I watched him for as long as I could, but that still wasn't long enough.

…

**A/N: I got a tumblr too! Follow me at http:/afalcone10. tumblr. com/**


	32. Chapter 32

**AN: Hi all! Been real busy, if you're looking for a reason. Quick thankee to chiisai-kitty for beta-ing this, and Charlaine Harris for giving me something to obsess over.**

**Just wanted to say that *SMALL SPOILER ALERT* the part where Pam talks about her human life and her turning is almost exactly taken from _All Together Dead_, since I thought the way CH wrote that scene was great. So, that part isn't mine, and the characters aren't mine either. There is another little exchange (I'm sure you'll recognize it too) that I kind of took from True Blood, so there's that too. But the mistakes are all mine.**

...

I stayed out in the parking lot for a long time, absently scuffing my shoes with the gravel and getting them all dirty while I thought. Oh well, a beat-up heel was the least of my worries.

It scared me a lot that Eric had seemed a little scared. Even when he had no idea who he was, he had seemed more in control. But I wasn't getting that tonight. Not even a little bit.

To be honest, it freaked me the fuck out that there were vampires out there with more power than Eric. I was used to Eric being the big, bad vampire sheriff, the one that no one dared to talk back to and the one that everyone looked up to and followed, from the skeeziest fangbanger to his employees to his child. And I was also used to Eric being the boss and telling people what to do—Pam to leave, Ginger to bring me a drink, Taryn to stop feeding at Fangtasia, Bill to leave. But now … it seemed like he might not be that guy, as far as this vampire queen person was concerned. _She_ was the boss of Eric; _she_ was the one who would (probably) be telling Eric what to do. I'm not pretending to be a medieval expert or anything, but I'd say that the queen trumped the sheriff—and she could, I guess, with me.

Somehow, without even knowing it, I had grown accustomed to counting on Eric for support, for help, and for protection—starting all the way back to him opening the door in front of me the night we met Pam and Chow, and going all the way up to tonight, with the whole Bill issue. But if he didn't know if he could help or support or protect me with this issue with the queen, then I knew it was big.

I didn't like that. I know she's a queen and all, but what gives her the right to suddenly decide I would be her telepathic pet, and I would drop my life and move to New Orleans just because she wanted me? She might have asked first. And I mean, she's not really a _real_ queen, is she? Like, she wasn't a queen when she was human, and then once a ruler was needed for Louisiana everyone was like, _well, this person was a queen in her past life so let's just give her Louisiana because she knows how to be a monarch._ Please.

Oh, and how did she even know about me and my telepathy? She's the vampire queen, which sounds like the big deal that I guess it is—how the fuck does she end up knowing absolutely everything about some waitress from some backwater town that's not exactly neighboring New Orleans? Was it from the witch war? Did one of the witches sell me out? But Pam kind of made it seem like she took care of that problem. Was it a Were, then? But I thought the Weres liked me! Well, okay, I knew Amanda didn't, but their packmaster did, so that's saying something. I don't think he would have turned me in. I don't think Alcide would have. Sam wouldn't have—he wouldn't want me to leave him and Merlotte's and Bon Temps and move to New Orleans. I don't think Pam or Chow or even Longshadow would have—they know how essential I am to filling up the holes in Eric's memory gaps, at the very least. And I knew for a fact there was no doubt in my mind that Eric didn't tell the queen about me.

But … obviously someone did, because this queen knew about me and my biggest secret. So someone squealed, and I didn't know who.

That really made my skin crawl. As much as I bitched about my telepathy, it would have been the perfect tool to use—if someone near me was feeling guilty about me, I could have just taken a peek in and seen that he or she sold me out. But that hadn't happened. I wasn't even able to use my telepathy to find out who squealed about my telepathy. How lame was that?

I suddenly realized that I was essentially queen-vampire-bait in this parking lot, with no Eric nearby. Fuck that. I was going home and changing into my ice cream pajamas—not pajamas with little dancing ice cream sundaes on them or something cute like that, but pajamas that were so old and big that I could eat as much ice cream as I wanted without feeling fat in them. Yes, ice cream pajamas sounded sooooo good right now. And extremely necessary.

I walked back to the front doors of Fangtasia, and luckily Pam had replaced the bouncer that I had brushed by earlier. "Hey Pam, just wanted to tell you I'm going home," I said easily, walking up to her. "Okay?"

"Sure. Let me grab my purse," she drawled, and then she turned on her heel and walked through the doors before I could ask her if she was saying what I thought she was saying. As awful as this sounded—and believe me, it's bad—I was in no mood for her company, or anyone's company. I was on the fast track to bitchy and right now I was somewhere around the crossing of annoyed and pissed off. And I didn't want to have to think of witty things to say to Pam or deal with her snappy retorts or general all-around awesomeness; I just wanted to go home and be alone and worry without any distractions.

But still, I waited for her—luckily she only took about a minute to come back with a big pink square purse and a new bouncer. Thankfully she left him at the door and just walked around back with me and her purse. She shook her head a little when she saw my car, but other than that she was unusually quiet.

"Pam, you okay?" I asked once neither of us had spoken in the twenty minutes since we left the parking lot.

"Why would you ask that?" she replied, turning to look at me. But she didn't sound defensive or worried—more like curious.

"Well, you've been acting kind of …I don't know, regular?"

She shifted in her seat so she was facing forward now, and I could barely see her when she shrugged her shoulders.

"You really care about Eric, don't you? You're worried just like me," I said softly after a few minutes. "It's okay if you are. I mean, I promise I won't, like, tell Eric or anyone else about it."

Pam paused before stiffly replying, "I have known Eric for a very long time, but I've never known him to act like this."

I digested that for a while before I replied, "Like what?"

"Like … a human, for lack of a better term" she said sourly. "He has a lot of feelings now, because of you."

"Whaddua mean?"

"It started with anger—anger at Hallow for cursing him, anger at you for helping and seeing him when he was vulnerable and just knowing what happened between you two, and, most of all, anger at himself for not being able to remember. There were many nights at Fangtasia where he just sulked in his office and refused to come out—that started after he stopped being able to enjoy feeding from the fangbangers. But the range of his feelings has continued to evolve, into bigger and what you would probably classify as better emotions."

I held my breath—there was a lot there that Pam was throwing at me. But she didn't seem to notice as she continued on in that scary calm voice of hers, "There's still anger now, some at Bill but mostly at the queen because she is more devious than he is. Of course, that's why she's the queen. Eric will never be a king, unless he can control himself better. And now I'm finding he's having trouble controlling himself when it comes to you."

"Wow. You really do care about him," I said somewhat dazedly, taking my eyes off the road to look at Pam when I said that. I always kind of known there was some depth to Pam, that she was capable of more than she seemed, but she pretty much just confirmed that.

She didn't say anything. I persisted, "Pam, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

It took me a couple seconds to understand her statement, but once I did I replied, "Alright, I'll just be Pam-blunt. How long have you known Eric? Like, when did you meet him?"

"I met him in London the last night of my life." Her voice was level, coming out of the shadowy darkness. I could see half her face in the overhead security light; she didn't seem to find her talking about her last night as a human as morbidly fascinated as I did. Then again, I guessed she had more time to come to terms with it. She looked at me and smiled a little. "I risked everything for love—something I assume you are familiar with. You'll laugh to hear this."

I wasn't remotely close to laughing.

"I was a very wild girl for my times. Young ladies weren't supposed to be alone with gentlemen, or any males, for that matter. Can you imagine? A far cry from now," she said, finishing wryly. "But I was a romantic, and bold. Again, I assume you are familiar with that." She smiled a little knowingly.

She continued, "I slipped out of my house late at night to meet the cousin of my dearest friend, the girl who lived right next door. The cousin was visiting from Bristol, and we were very attracted to each other. My parents didn't consider him to be my equal in social class, so I knew they wouldn't let him court me. And if I were caught alone with him at night, it would be the end of me. No marriage, unless my parents could force him to wed me. So, no future at all." Pam shook her head. "Crazy to think of now. Those were the times women didn't have choices. The ironic part is, our meeting was quite innocent. A few kisses, a lot of sentimental claptrap, undying love. Nowhere near as scandalous as your first meeting with Eric."

I grinned at Pam, but she didn't look up to catch the smile.

"On my way back to my house, trying to move so silently through the garden, I met Eric. There was no way to slip silently enough to avoid him." For a long moment, she was quiet. "And it really was the end of me."

"Why'd he turn you?" I asked as we entered Bon Temps. This was an unexpected and fascinating conversation—one that had me so engrossed I didn't even realize the late-night talk show on the radio station we had been listening to was now just plain static.

"I think he was lonely," she said, a faint note of surprise in her voice. "Maybe he saw something in me that no one else could. I don't know. I never questioned it."

"Weren't you angry with him?" I asked, trying to understand why she would want to spend the rest of eternity with her murderer. But I don't think she thought of him that way. After all, I really hadn't, until now.

She seemed to be trying to remember. "At first, I was shocked," Pam said. "After he'd drained me, he put me in bed in my own room, and of course my family thought I'd died of some mysterious ailment, and they buried me. Eric dug me up, so I wouldn't wake up in my coffin and have to dig my own way out. That was a great help. He held me and explained it all to me. Up until the night I died, I'd always been a very conventional woman underneath my daring tendencies. I was used to wearing layers and layers of clothes. You would be amazed at the dress I died in: the sleeves, the trim. The fabric in the skirt alone could make you three dresses! And it was black too!"

Pam looked fondly reminiscent, nothing more. Of course the thing she _would _spend the most time talking about while discussing her human life would be her clothes. I mean, this was Pam after all.

"After what he did, you didn't want to kill him?"

"No," she said instantly. "I wanted to have sex with him, and I did. We had sex many, many times." She grinned. I didn't. "The tie between maker and child doesn't have to be sexual, but with us it was. That changed quite soon, actually, as my tastes broadened. I wanted to try everything I'd been denied in my human life."

"So you actually liked it, being a vampire? You were glad?"

Pam shrugged. "Yes, I've always loved being what I am. It took me a few days to understand my new nature. I'd never even heard of a vampire before I became one."

I couldn't imagine the shock of Pam's awakening. Her self-proclaimed quick adjustment to her new state amazed me.

"Did you ever go back to see your family?" I asked. Okay, that was tacky, and I regretted it as soon as the words passed my lips. But Pam actually had a family to go back to. If I was turned into a vampire, there'd be no one but Jason for me to go back and see. Pam, she had cousins and parents and a suitor.

"I saw them from a distance, maybe ten years later. You understand, the first thing a new vampire needed to do was leave her home area. Otherwise she ran the risk of being recognized and hunted down. Now you can parade around as much as you like. But we were so secret, so careful. Eric and I headed out of London as quickly as we could go, and after spending a little time in the north of England while I became accustomed to my state, we left England for the continent."

This was gruesome but fascinating. "Did you ever regret it? Ever wish he would have asked first?"

Pam looked a little puzzled, like she didn't understand the question or why I was asking it. There was a tiny wrinkle in her smooth forehead that I had never seen before. "Absolutely not. I owe Eric everything. My life was more exciting dead with him than alive with silly, inconsequential humans. I would be crumbled to nothing in my grave by now if he hadn't been watching me slip back to my house from meeting that silly young man. I owe him my loyalty. I have to obey him, but I do it willingly. Eric is intelligent, ambitious, and very entertaining. But I'm sure you knew all of that already."

After a beat I muttered, "Guess I just had my own interview with a vampire."

Pam barked out a short laugh before she shook her head and looked out the window for the rest of the ride, which wasn't long.

"Did Eric ask you to come home with me—for protection?" I asked once I turned the car off in my driveway.

"Yes. He shouldn't have, though."

Um, what now? Vampire say whaa? I had been unlocking the back door, but I stopped all that and whipped my head around to stare at Pam.

"He should have left you in the care of Longshadow or perhaps Chow, and I should have went with him to New Orleans. It was not the smartest move for him to go down there alone. He wasn't thinking straight. He usually doesn't when you're involved," she said simply.

"I don't know … isn't he kind of in a tricky position already? Wouldn't it look even worse if he insisted his child accompany him to New Orleans? 'Cause you'd be, like, his second in a duel, right?"

" … Did you just reference duel etiquette?" Pam asked, sounding somewhat astonished.

"Yeah I did," I replied smugly. But of course there was no reason to add that everything I knew about dueling came from Harry Potter.

After that I led Pam inside and told her to make herself at home while I changed into comfier clothes; I didn't put the ice cream pajamas on, but I did put on a large baggy shirt and a pair of sweat pants. By the time I cleaned my face and came back downstairs, Pam was sitting on the couch watching America's Funniest Home Videos.

"Sookie, how is it that I've never heard of this show before?" she asked excitedly when I sat down next to her. "This has everything in it—humans injuring themselves, humans being stupid, and humans laughing at other humans being stupid and injuring themselves. It is fantastic!"

"Yeah, it's pretty good," I said as we watched a fat man take a bounce on a diving board and break it so he fell face-first into the pool he had been trying to jump in.

Pam cackled with mirth and clapped her hands. I laughed at her reaction, rather than what we'd just seen on the television. I found myself doing that most of the time.

"I'm going to make me a hot chocolate. Can I heat you up a True Blood, Pam?" I asked once we got to a commercial break.

She nodded her head, seeming a bit deflated now that she had to watch a woman try and sell deodorant instead of a woman get hit in the face with a volleyball.

As I was about to leave the room, Pam called out, "Sookie, do you know when this program will stop?"

"Um, let me see," I replied, walking back to the couch and picking up the remote from the coffee table. "Oh, look at that. You seem to have stumbled onto an America's Funniest Home Videos marathon—that last show ends at four in the morning."

Pam looked like I just told her she could feed off of every single model in the Victoria's Secret catalog. "Excellent!"

Laughing to myself, I walked into the kitchen and started working on our drinks. I realized that when I was with Pam I hadn't worried about Eric once—was that a good thing or a bad thing?

I focused on getting our drinks prepared instead, hurrying up once Pam shouted, "Sookie! The annoying talking male is back on!"

Pam barely noticed when I walked back into the room—she was so busy watching the show. She only stopped to drink her True Blood when the "annoying talking male" was introducing videos or interviewing contestants, or when there was a commercial.

By the end of the third episode, she was already talking about how she could make an America's Funniest Home Videos: Fangtasia, using footage from security tapes that showed fangbangers doing the stupidest things. By the end of the fourth episode, Pam was digging through all of my home videos, checking the written descriptions on the labels of the VHS tapes and sorting them into piles of what would be shown on America's Funniest Home Videos and what wouldn't; of course, this was still being done on commercial breaks, since when the show was on Pam's attention was directed only to it.

In fact, her outbursts and cackling were helping me stay awake—that and anxiousness for Eric. I was still getting sleepy though, and I was yawning more than I liked. Pam was starting to get a little worried too; I caught her sneaking peeks at the clock more than once. Neither of us said anything about it.

But then my house phone rang and I was instantly awake, jumping up and running to the kitchen to answer it with Pam human-running behind me.

"Eric?" I asked, not even bothering with wasting time by saying "Hello" or "This is Sookie."

"Sookie," he breathed. I clutched the phone, as if by holding it tightly would mean I could hold the person on the other end of the phone tightly too. I turned to Pam and mouthed, "It's Eric!" even though I knew she could hear him.

"Eric, are you okay? Where are you? How did it go? Is everything going back to normal?" I asked quickly.

"Yes. Flying back to Bon Temps. Okay. And what is normal?" Eric asked after a beat. I smiled. That was such an Eric response.

"When do you think you'll get here?" I asked, excited that he called me first-thing (and, selfishly, not Pam) and that he immediately headed straight for my house in Bon Temps instead of Fangtasia or his own house (again, selfishly).

"I should arrive there just ahead of dawn."

I looked at the microwave. It was three-thirty now. "Oh. Okay. I'll wait up for you."

"Already looking forward to it."

"Eric?" I asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Yes, Sookie?"

"I'm glad you'll be okay."

After a beat he asked, "Sookie?"

I smiled. "Yes, Eric?"

"I'm glad you'll be okay too."

Pam rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. I ignored her as I smiled into the phone.

"Can you give the phone to Pam?" he asked after a couple seconds had passed.

"Sure," I said, and held the phone out to her.

She snatched it up almost immediately. "Eric?"

In an uncharacteristic fashion, Pam was quiet for a long time. I started to worry, but her facial expression hadn't changed a bit the whole time, so maybe everything was okay and I was just overreacting.

Then she suddenly hung up, and I flinched from the shock of it. I wasn't done talking with Eric!

"It's starting to rain," she explained, and I looked out the window. Granted, it was black out, but I couldn't even hear it. "Where Eric is," she said, seeing where I was looking. "He said it's heading this way too. But you don't care about that."

"Honestly? Not really," I said. "What did he say to you?"

"Do you want to hear it from me, or do you want to hear it from Eric," Pam asked. I looked at her.

"How bad is it?"

She shrugged. "Not bad at all."

"Then I want to have Eric tell me. No offense."

"None taken. It is his story to tell, anyways." She paused. "However, he did say it would be safe for me to leave whenever I felt like it."

"He did?"

"Yes. I think I'll stay until the show is over."

I looked at the clock again. One more episode. "Okay, that's fine by me. But Eric said it would be safe, right?"

"Yes."

"Then okay," I said. "You do know you're missing part of it now, right?"

Pam zoomed back into the living room without saying another word. I walked over to hang up the phone and then followed her.

This marked the first time where I wasn't annoyed by all of the commercial breaks and the host's corny jokes—because they were dragging the program on, and the longer the program was on the longer Pam stayed at my house. There was no doubt in my mind that if Eric said it was safe for Pam to leave then it was safe for Pam to leave. But if Pam left, then I would be alone with my thoughts. And you didn't have to be a telepath to know what kind of thoughts I'd be having.

Pam didn't seem to mind—she was still cackling and smiling, especially when it showed a toddler repeatedly hitting himself in the face and laughing. But soon the show ended and the infomercials started, so Pam took her leave by standing up. I stood up too.

"This has been surprisingly fun," she said, placing a hand on the doorknob. She was still facing me, so I could see her lips curve upwards in a smile when she said that. "Could we watch it together the next time there's a marathon?"

I didn't want to crush her and tell here there's a marathon on pretty much all the time. "Yeah, sure. That sounds great."

"It's settled then." She smiled at me and turned to leave.

"Wait," I cried out, walking over to her. She stopped and looked quizzically at me over her shoulder. "Let me give you a hug goodbye."

I did just that, and I expected Pam to make some lesbian comment or do something inappropriate, but it really was just a hug. A hug between friends, even.

"Thank you for coming over tonight, Pam. I know Eric told you to do it and everything, but thanks all the same," I said as soon as the hug was over.

"It was my pleasure," she said, quirking an eyebrow. Ah, there it is. Well, she is Pam, after all.

I laughed. "Night, Pam. Or morning, I guess."

"Morning, Sookie. I will probably see you tonight."

"Yeah, probably. Take care." We were both on the front porch now, and Pam started walking down the stairs. Eric was right, it was raining now. "Wait, how are you getting back home, or Fangtasia, or wherever you're going? I can drive you, since it's raining. I don't mind" I called out to Pam.

"I'll just run back to Fangtasia. It'll probably fuck my shoes up, but these are last season. And I'll just get Eric to buy me a new pair." She smiled at the thought.

"Oh. Okay, then. Bye now." And then she was gone. And then I was all alone.

Even though Eric said I would be safe, I still went back inside and locked the door. I turned the TV off, and all the lights off, and went upstairs, where I opened the window closest to my bed for Eric to come in. I brushed my teeth and moisturized and tucked myself into bed and started reading a book. I found myself yawning with each page I turned, but I fought sleep off.

Or, at least, I thought I did until I heard footsteps near me. I opened my eyes and saw Eric, dripping wet, crouched next to my bed. He was so close I could see the droplets of rain sliding down his face and the way his blonde eyelashes were in little triangles because they were wet.

"Eric," I mumbled happily, taking an arm out from underneath the covers so I could cusp his face. I didn't even care that I was getting all wet, or that my floor was getting all wet. But I cared that Eric was all wet and cold and probably uncomfortable.

He smiled, and I loved that I could feel him do that.

"Here, let me get you a towel and some dry clothes," I said, starting to get out of bed. Eric put his hand over mine, the one that was cradling his face.

"Don't. Stay there. I can get it." He patted my hand, and then made to stand up. I reluctantly let go of him. He zoomed out the door, and I could hear drawers and doors being opened. I lied on my back and sleepily listened to Eric in my house.

Finally he came back in, toweled off and dry, and snuck under the covers with me. I turned to face him; I don't know why I was looking for any burns or bruises or cuts or scrapes, since he would have healed by now anyways, but I still checked just to make sure. We just looked at each other, to make sure the other one was okay.

"What happened?" I asked after we were done.

"It's too late to tell you everything. I'm sorry that it's come to this, but it's true. I did not foresee the rainstorm, and that cut down my travel time significantly," Eric said softly, looking at me the whole time. "But we can sit down and go over everything tonight. I promise. Just know that you are safe, and I am safe, and we are going to work through this together."

"Good," I murmured. "I'm just glad we're okay."

"Of course we are." He smiled, and then looked past me. I turned my face and saw he was looking out the window (the one he had come in through, and had very politely closed). "I'm going to have to retire soon—fifteen minutes, maybe."

"Hold me for fourteen and a half?" I asked, facing towards him.

He leaned over and kissed me for that time instead. I wasn't complaining, and he wasn't either.

Then he had to get up and go to his hidey hole."Until tonight, Sookie," was the last thing he said before he closed the trap door. But I knew he heard me say, "That's not soon enough," because I heard him laugh. And that was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.

...

**A/N: Voila. Just a heads up, but the next chapter isn't coming until a little more than a week from now. I'm going to be doing a lot of traveling, and though I'll be around for the odd tweet or tumble (is that how you say it? :P) I don't plan on spending a lot of time of DTMW. So it will just be like what it used to be for a while. But I didn't leave you guys on a horriffic cliffy, as I've been known to do. Right?**

**xx**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Here we are :D Thank you to all who reviewed. Sorry I wasn't able to reply back this time, but I'm posting this much earlier than I originally thought, so compromise?**

**I don't own these characters, but I do own Alexander Skarsgard. Wait, WHAT? You're actually reading this? Good for you. But sorry, I don't own Alexander Skarsgard. But not for lack of trying :P**

**And big big big thank you to my beta, chiisai-kitty, who not only read this over late at night, but also came up with the funniest comments about it. 'Cause she's fine. _Yeah she is_. ;)**

**You can tell I'm really tired when posting this at three in the morning, 'cause I've used a emoticon in every single sentence here. XD**

…

I woke up at four in the afternoon the next day—thank goodness I hadn't been scheduled to work. Once I was feeling awake enough, I took a shower and did the laundry, throwing Eric's black pants, white undershirt, socks, and grey button-down shirt that he had been wearing last night into the wash with my clothes—he was still wearing whatever underwear he had been wearing last night. It felt like old times, but then again, a lot of what Eric and I were doing felt like old times. Which I liked, of course. I'd be a fool not to.

It wasn't until I happened to walk past the kitchen on the way to the washing machine that I saw there was a blinking red light on my answering machine—someone had left a message.

I soon found out that someone was Sam. "Hi cher," he said, sounding a little nervous. "It's me. Sam, me. Um, just wanted to see how you were doing with all this Jason business. Call me back when you get this. 'Kay, bye now."

Well, that left me feeling like a walrus in a kiddie swimming pool. What was this Jason business? I had just seen him yesterday. Wait, was that yesterday? Yeah, I guessed it was. A lot had happened csince then.

I picked up the phone and called Merlotte's. Sam answered on the second ring. "Merlotte's, this is Merlotte."

"Hi, Sam. This is Sookie."

"How you holdin' up, cher?"

"I don't know how I'm holding up, Sam, 'cause I don't know what you're talking about. And I was kinda hoping you'd help me with that."

"Shit, Sookie," Sam swore. "You mean you don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

"Shit. Alright. Alright. Uhhhh, hold on a second. Let me put this in my office."

I held on for many seconds. Too many seconds. I was so anxious I couldn't sit down. Instead, I started pacing back and forth in my kitchen.

"'Kay, I'm here," Sam said, FINALLY.

"So, what's up with Jason?"

"Well, did you know Maudette Pickens was found strangled in her apartment yesterday morning?"

"What? No! Is that … fuck, does this have something to do with Jason?" I asked, a knot starting to form in my stomach as my brain started connecting the dots. Jason was up early yesterday morning. Jason spent that night at Maudette's. No. No. I was just being paranoid. That was it.

"Yeah. Yeah it does. And it ain't good. Cher, Sheriff Dearborn and Andy Bellefleur hauled him in yesterday afternoon for questioning. Made him leave work and everything; Rene said they didn't cuff him or nothin', but still, he rode in the back of the cop car. And I haven't seen him since. No one has. He was supposed to pick up Dawn from work last night, but I had to give her a ride home. She was a nervous wreck, sobbing the whole damn time."

Now I had to sit down. I sat down hard in the kitchen chair. But the jolt didn't do anything but spook me even more. Was that why Arlene was looking at me funny in the grocery store? Not because I was buying True Blood, but because my brother had just been hauled in for questioning about a murder? I didn't know which was worse.

"They think Jason did it," I said incredulously. "This is Jason we're talking about, Sam! He couldn't pour piss out of a boot if there were instructions written on the heel!"

"I know, Sookie, I know," Sam replied, a little wearily. I would have bet any amount of money that he was running a hand through his golden-red hair right now.

"Wait … I saw Jason yesterday morning. He even talked about his night with Maudette! Said she showed him a homemade sex tape she had made with some freaky baldheaded tattooed vampire. Crap, and I put my shields up then because I didn't want to see nothing! But I don't think he did it. He couldn't have. It's Jason. The only thing he's capable of killing is his brain cells when he gets rip-roaring drunk. No, he didn't do it. I know he didn't," I said confidently.

"He probably didn't, but the fact of the matter is that he hasn't been seen since he was seated in that cop car, getting a free ride to the sheriff's office."

Sam wasn't here, so I gave my phone the WTF face I would have given Sam. He was supposed to be on my side, damnit!

He continued, "I'm sorry, Sookie. So sorry. I'm sorry it happened, and I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you this, and I'm sorry it has to be that way."

"Thanks, Sam. But all your sorries aren't getting him out of jail. I'm gonna go call Bud Dearborn. Bye now." And without further ado, I hung up the phone.

I didn't give myself time to think about what I would say when I talked to Bud, because I dialed that number as quickly as my shaking hands would allow me to.

I got the receptionist—I'd forgotten her name, but I knew who she was—a mousy blond who I remembered having a fling with Jason, but then again, which Bon Temps girl hasn't?

"Bon Temps sheriff department, this is—"

"I need to speak to Bud Dearborn, and I need to talk to him NOW," I interrupted, not even noticing that I was thisclose to finding out what's-her-name's name.

"Okeydokey," she said cheerfully, but she transferred the call right away.

"This is Bud," the wizened old sheriff said upon answering the phone. He'd been the sheriff of Bon Temps longer than I'd been alive, so I've known him all my life.

"This is Sookie Stackhouse," I said. "And I want to know why you're holding my brother."

He waited a few seconds before replying, "Well, Sookie, we actually released him around three in the morning or so," he replied.

"Good. Oh, that's so good," I breathed into the phone. Now, I didn't know where Jason was at the moment, but I knew he wasn't in jail now so that was fine with me. "Why did you take him into custody for, like, twelve hours? Did you think he had something to do with Maudette's death?"

"Well, yes we did. But we don't have anything on him. You see, there was this video …" and then he explained everything. How Maudette had taped her and Jason having rough sex, and how it appeared that Jason had strangled her, and he booked it out of her apartment, but it turned out she had just been faking the whole thing, since she got up and turned the video camera off. They'd held Jason thinking he might have come back to do the job, or just thinking he might know something, but surprise, surprise, he didn't know anything.

"Yeah … I talked to Jason yesterday morning and he mentioned Maudette rather liked her homemade porn," I admitted, being as tact about it as I could. Bud Dearborn was like sixty-something years old, after all.

He paused. "What do you mean, Sookie?"

"I don't know, he just mentioned she made a sex tape with a vampire."

"Was it the same vampire that came to Merlotte's? The one you had to wait on?"

"No. And—"

"Was it the other two vampires that came to Merlotte's that same night? The male and female vampires?"

"What? No! Definitely not. And how'd you know about all those vampire sightings? I don't remember seeing you there that night, Bud Dearborn."

"It's a small town, Sookie. People talk. It's my job to listen."

"Okay then. But I still have no idea who that video-vampire is. Sorry."

"Thanks anyway. Did Jason say anything else about the homemade porn? How many there were, or where they were being kept?"

"No. But I'm sure whatever he'd say to me, he'd say to you," I said sharply.

Bud didn't like that. "Well. So. We were just being careful with the only lead we have for this case."

"Yeah, but come on, twelve hours?" I knew I was pushing it, but like I said—_twelve hours_? Jason must have been going out of his mind. He can't stand five-minute commercial breaks, so that day must have felt like a lifetime.

"And we needed every minute," he said tartly. "It's been nice talking to you, but I have to go. I have a murder case to solve."

He hung up on me. I couldn't believe it. "Yeah, well, you'll probably need every minute for that too," I snapped into the phone, even though I knew he couldn't hear me. It made me feel better, though.

I dialed Jason's number now, but it went to voicemail. "FUCK!" I swore loudly, shutting the phone. Then I realized I hadn't actually left a voicemail, just a recording of me swearing, so I redialed the number. This time, however, Jason did pick up.

"YES! Hi," he said, sounding a little breathless.

"Oh, Jason, I am so sorry about what happened to you," I said as soon as I heard his voice. "Are you alright? Can I do anything? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Uh … hold on a sec, Sook," he said, and I heard him grunt a little.

"What're ya doing there, Jason?" I asked nervously. Jason and grunting was never a good thing, from what I learned when he was a teenage boy living in this house with Gran and me. Yeah, Jason grunting wasn't what I wanted to hear.

"That _crazy bitch_ tied me up to her bed twenty minutes ago and then went off to work like it was no big deal! I got one of my hands free, and I'm working on the second."

"Wait, what? Who tied you up? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Dawn. It's always Dawn. I went over to her place last night once _fucking_ Andy and Bud let me go, and we made up and it was great and then she just left me tied to her headboard and went to Merlotte's for work! _Fucking bitch."_

But if Dawn went to work, then she would have seen Sam, and she should have told Sam that Jason was released. But maybe she stopped somewhere on the way? Whatever, that was so not the most pressing issue right now.

"Um, do you need help … untying yourself? 'Cause I will totally drive to Dawn's and help you out," I said, meaning every word even though I was sickened by the mental picture they inspired.

"Naw, 's all good. I'm buck-naked anyway," Jason said, confirming what I was thinking. "Hold on … yep, I'm fine. Got my other hand outta there. You're on speaker phone, in case you were wondering."

I hadn't been, but whatever. "Oh."

"Yep. And now I'm puttin' my jeans on, so I'm not talking to you naked anymore."

"Um … good to know."

"Yeah. But, uh, I didn't kill Maudette. I really didn't. I thought I did, but I didn't. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. But why didn't you tell me? I mean, you came to see me what, a couple hours before Andy and Bud nabbed you? And you thought you killed her then. Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

I mean, I knew I hadn't told Jason about any of the vampire stuff I'd been dealing with for this past month or so. But, now I was definitely going to the next time I saw him in person. Definitely. No more secrets between us. None.

… But, uh, I wasn't going to tell him right now, because he sounded like he already had too much on his plate.

Yeah.

"You're my baby sis, Sook. I didn't want to worry you none," he said simply, like I was a dum-dum for even asking.

"Yeah, but next time you're in trouble, and I'm sorry to say this, but there probably will be a next time knowing you," I replied, listening to Jason chuckle, "let me help you out, okay? Or at least tell me about it? Just so you don't have to go through it alone. I was worried sick about you when I found out what happened."

"Uh, about that … how did you find out about what happened to me?"

"Sam called me to see how I was doing with it. And sorry, but he kinda made it seem like everyone knew what happened."

"Yeah, well, Rene probably told Arlene, and she probably told everyone. And Hoyt Fortenberry probably told his mama, and she probably told everyone Arlene missed. I don't know. I don't care none either. I'm just glad it's all done."

"Yeah, me too. Just … let me know the next time you think you accidentally killed someone, alright?" I joked. I laughed.

Jason didn't. "Too soon, Sook. Too soon."

"Oh. Sorry. Um, talk to you later then?"

"Yep."

"You take care now. Bye." I hung up the phone, and it was then that I realized Eric was leaning against the cabinets, wearing nothing but a pair of pale blue silk boxers and looking all the hotter because of it.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked curiously once I noticed him—or, rather, jumped five inches in my seat.

"How long have you been there?" I asked confusedly. I had talked to a lot of people on the phone.

"Not too long. I just got up and came downstairs to hear you talking about accidentally killing someone."

"Well, you know my brother Jason?"

"I know of him, but I don't know him personally," Eric said, a little bite in his voice. We'd talked about Jason before, and Eric had hinted that he wanted to meet him. But I was so not getting into the whole introducing-Eric-to-Jason thing right now. So I ignored it.

"Yeah. Well. Turns out that yesterday he had to spend twelve hours being interrogated in the sheriff's office about this murder in Bon Temps, the strangling of Maudette Pickens. Jason had slept with Maudette that night, and they thought he mighta done it. He says he didn't kill her, and you know what?"

"What?" Eric asked, walking over and sitting down in the chair next to me.

"I believe him. I really do."

Eric looked at me for a couple of seconds before nodding. "If it means anything to you at all, I am sorry that happened to him. And to you as well."

"Thanks. It means a lot to me, actually," I said, smiling at him. "Wait, he said she'd been with a vampire, and showed him a homemade sex-tape she made with a vampire. One that was bald and had tattoos and freaky eyes. You know anyone who fits that description?"

Eric paused before nodding. "That would be Liam, I think. He lives in Monroe in a nest. But I thought you said this Maudette was strangled?"

"Yeah, I did. What about it?"

"Well, if a vampire's going to kill someone, it's not going to be by strangulation. I can talk to Liam, if you like, but I think it's safe to say he's not the killer. Surprisingly."

"Thank you. I'd really appreciate it, if you would."

Eric asked for a True Blood then, and I got up to get him one, and me a glass of ice water. I could do with the cooling off, after what I'd just been through. Once the microwave dinged, I brought the bottle over to Eric and sat down in my same spot.

"Thank you," Eric said, taking a sip. As soon as he set the bottle down on the table he continued, "Now, let's talk about what happened last night."

"What happened … oh, fuck, yeah, I can't believe I almost forgot about that."

"You did have some sizeable distractions to oversee, both yesterday and today," Eric said gently, his eyes smiling at me over the bottle of True Blood he was holding to his lips.

"Tell me about it. What did the queen say?"

Instead of answering, Eric asked, "Are you comfortable here? This might take a while to explain everything."

"Yeah, I'm fine. But, uh, what about you?" I asked, gesturing to Eric's naked chest before I realized what I was saying. Basically, I was asking if he wanted to put clothes on.

I was an idiot.

"What do you mean?" Eric asked confusedly.

I was_ such_ an idiot.

Instead of lying or changing the subject, I stupidly replied, "Well, uh, I washed your clothes from last night; they're in the dryer now. I can go get them for you, if you'd like."

"Thank you for doing that. But, if you don't mind, I'm fine as I am now."

_Yeah you are_. "Oh, no, I don't mind at all. No minding whatsoever," I said, bobbing my head for good effect, still not recovering from my case of stupidity. "So, hmm, okay then, start at the beginning. Please."

"Right," Eric said, drinking his blood. "So, that would be the meeting with Bill, after he so rudely interrupted us. We still haven't talked about that, you know."

He shot me a meaningful look that told me we were going to, if he had anything to say about that.

"Yeah, I remember everything about Bill. But what about the queen?" I replied, looking at my water.

"Very well. Bill was won over by our little display … as was I."

He gave me another little meaningful look, but I stared at my water like it was the most fascinating thing on the planet. It was, though. It really was. _Really._

After a moment, Eric continued, "And now, the queen is too. After much debate and arguing, I've convinced her that there would be a greater chance of me being the one you would choose to tell your secret too, since I know you better than Bill and I'm more familiar to you. However, the fact that we had shared blood before was largely the deciding factor."

"Really? Why's that?"

"It's unusual for a vampire to give blood to a human. It's even more unusual for a vampire to give blood to a human multiple times, which I have done."

"Wait, I thought I was supposed to be the ordinary fangbanger, not some selected human? And why did you tell the queen that we've exchanged blood? Or did she already know that somehow?" I asked.

"No, Bill and Sophie-Anne—that's the queen—did not know about our blood exchange. I, well, I had to change our game plan. Sophie-Anne wanted vampire blood in you—the blood of a vampire loyal to her—so you'd be easy to track if you were to try and escape."

He waited a second for me to absorb that before continuing, "She knew the Rattrays were convicted and recently released vampire drainers, and she had Bill track them but not reveal himself until they ended up going to Merlotte's. It turns out that, in a strange coincidence, the first night he started tracking them they went to Merlotte's, and you just happened to be working then. Bill was betting on them trying to drain him, which of course happened, and he was betting on them thinking about draining him so you'd know, which also happened. But he just wasn't betting on me coming into the picture. The queen wasn't either," Eric explained, his voice trailing off with the last sentence. He shook his head a little, to rouse him out of whatever he was thinking.

Then he continued, "When I discovered the queen really wanted vampire blood in you, that's when I revealed our blood exchange. I thought it would help my argument, and it did. Bill's no longer assigned to the case. I am."

"_You're_ the one who's going to turn me in?" I asked, horrified. I started to move my chair away from his, but Eric's hand shot out and stopped me.

"No. Of course not." He shook his head and then stared at me as he asked, "How could you even think that?"

"It's just that, you said you were on the case. The case was to find out more about my condition and report it to the queen, so I could be her personal telepath pet thingy," I whimpered.

"That is true. But it's going to take an _extremely_ long time for me to find out more about your telepathy. Understand? And, aside from saving you, that will give me more time to figure out how to stop you from being the queen's telepath. The queen didn't give me a specific date to, as you said, turn you in. That works for us."

I didn't realize I had taken a napkin from the table and was shredding it to bits until Eric put a hand over the hand of mine that was doing the ripping. I stopped and looked at him as he said, "You are safe, Sookie. And you always will be, if I have anything to do with it."

I nodded and smiled a little, even if I didn't exactly mean it, so Eric would know I was okay. I don't think he bought it, but he didn't say anything. He drank some blood instead.

"So what's Bill going to do? He's not going to, like, spy on us, is he?" I asked.

"I don't think so. He stayed at the queen's palace for the day, but I don't know what he'll be doing with the Compton house. He's oddly sentimental—still retains that ridiculous Southern accent after having over 150 years to adapt and move on. Which, frankly, is just plain stupid, but it's his decision. He might stay there, he might just keep the house for backup, I don't know. It's not like he has any family that might try and take it away." Eric raised his bottle to take a sip, but then paused. He stared at me.

"Eric?" I prodded.

"Sookie, I was under the impression that Jason was your only living family," he said slowly, to make sure I understood what he was saying.

I didn't, exactly. "Well, yeah. I mean, I have a cousin, Hadley, but I haven't seen her in _ages_. She always managed to make bad decisions and get in trouble, and since the last time I saw her she was heavily into drugs, we—Gran and I—just figured she, well, got dead or something. I don't even know where she is right now; I couldn't find an address or even a city for her when Gran died. So I just say Jason's my only family."

Then, Eric's face tightened, his cheekbones standing out more than usual, and a faint crease of a worried line appeared on his forehead. It was then that I started being scared, on top of being confused.

"What?" I asked.

"Sookie," he said, leaning over to hold both of my hands. I was so nervous I couldn't even enjoy it. "I know where Hadley is right now."

"What? You do? How? Where is she? Is she okay" I questioned, feeling a little dazed.

"She's in New Orleans. Hadley is how the queen knows all about you, Sookie," Eric said, sounding gentler than I'd ever heard him.

Hadley? HADLEY? I hadn't seen or heard from her in such a long time that I thought she was dead. I had tried my darndest to reach out to her and track her down so I could tell her about Gran's death and give her some of Gran's mementos—a silver seashell brooch Hadley always picked to wear when we played dress-up as children and a photo album filled with pictures of our mothers from when they were little up until they were both pregnant, my mom with Jason and Aunt Linda with Hadley. There was a box in Gran's room filled with things I thought Hadley might like, but it'd been collecting dust for months and I thought it'd just always sit there. Now I wasn't so sure.

"Whaa?"

Eric said, "She is a member of the queen's court. I do not know how, and I do not know why, but she is. And she's the queen's favorite human—favorite lover, favorite donor, favorite friend … favorite everything. Apparently, to gain the queen's favor in the budding stage of their relationship, Hadley mentioned having a cousin who somehow knew things, things people were going to say, things people never told anyone else. She told the queen about an instance where her cousin tried to talk her out of going to a party in a rough neighborhood with a boy recently been released from jail, but Hadley hadn't even told her cousin about the party or where it was or who the boy was."

I nodded my head to show I was following. I knew what he was talking about. It was the time when I had read her mind when I caught her trying to sneak out of the house—this was right after her mother died of cancer, and Hadley had been staying with us. Come to think of it, that was one of the last times I had seen Hadley. I hadn't thought about that night in ages—but obviously Hadley had.

"Naturally, the queen was intrigued," Eric continued, his voice low. "As you know, telepaths are very rare, and also very valuable. When she heard where you were from, and that you'd lived in the South your whole life and _Gone With The Wind_ was your favorite movie—which I didn't even know, by the way—she called on Bill Compton, a very young, very Southern vampire eager to find a way to climb through the ranks of the twisted vampire hierarchy we all now know and love. The fact that he was born in Bon Temps—and had, in a _curious_ turn of events, recently inherited a house just across the way from yours—guaranteed him the spot."

Now I was so stunned I couldn't even blink, let alone nod my head or talk.

"Sookie?" Eric asked, but I barely heard him I was thinking so loudly. I jumped a little when I felt him place a hand on my shoulder; the coolness of his skin brought me back to the present. "Sookie, look at me."

I did just that, tearing my eyes away from the wooden table that I had been staring at this whole time Eric was talking to me. Eric's face was much closer than I had thought it was, and his eyes were boring into mine, trying to read me. His facial expressions matched the one I wore when I actually tried to read people—except he wouldn't be able to "read" me. His jaw was fixed, and his mouth was open a little as he gazed at me.

"Did … did you meet her, Eric? Did you meet her last night, when you went to New Orleans? When you met with the queen, did you see Hadley?" I asked, a little fainter than normal. My voice sounded funny, like when you hear your voice on a voicemail or a video and you don't recognize it. He nodded, and I said, "How is she?"

"Hadley is doing well. Though she is considered to be the Queen's 'pet,' she is being treated much, much better than the usual vampire pets. Unusually better. She enjoys being fed on, and even asks Sophie-Anne to bite her. The two spend much time together, and in all of my years of knowing and doing business relations with the queen, I feel sure in saying I have never seen her so attached to a human like she is to Hadley."

I let go of a sigh I didn't know I was holding on to, and Eric's grip on me tightened a little. I didn't know why, but it did.

"I knew this Hadley, before I knew you. But her last name is Delahoussaye, so I didn't know …" Eric said, trailing off at the end.

I nodded my head and numbly, automatically replied, "Aunt Linda is my dad's sister, but she married a Delahoussaye."

"I see," Eric said. "I saw Hadley tonight, briefly. The queen was feeding from her before I came in; Hadley was sent away so we could have the meeting. She did ask about you, though, in the few seconds we spent together. I told her you were good, still living in Bon Temps and working at Merlotte's, and she smiled. Then Bill arrived, so the meeting started and we exchanged goodbyes. The meeting took so long that there wasn't enough time for me to seek her out afterwards, if I wanted to make it to your house before dawn."

He paused and took the time to measure my reaction, which was still just plain old stunned.

Eric continued, in a comfortingly quiet voice, "Sookie, I've only met your cousin a handful of times, and the only reason why I remembered her is because she was the only human at the palace that was ever properly introduced to me, and by the queen herself, too. From what you've told me about her past, she could be doing a lot worse … even though she basically blabbed your life away."

"I want to see her," I immediately said right after Eric stopped talking.

"That would not be smart," he immediately replied.

"Why not? She's my cousin, and not only did I just find out she was still alive, but I just found out where she was. I want to see her."

"I can understand why you would want to. But now is not the best time for you to do that. Surely you can see why?" Eric murmured, looking intensely at me the whole time.

I nodded and pursed my lips, not saying anything. I mean, I got that I had missed a bullet with Bill and the queen, and marching into the queen's palace and demanding to see her favorite human would definitely be pushing my luck. I really did. But, I still wanted to see Hadley. She was family, and long-lost family at that.

When I didn't reply, Eric said, "I know you want to, Sookie. But you have to believe me when I say it wouldn't be in your best interest if you tried to initiate contact. That would completely blow our cover, and we can't risk that. If you suddenly knew your cousin was alive and living with the queen and tried to do something about it, Sophie-Anne would know I told you. And that would not be good for either of us."

"But Eric," I whined, not caring how young and bratty I sounded, "it's just not fair! You can't just tell me Hadley is alive and well and then expect me not to do anything about it! I want to see her! I want to talk to her! I want to catch up with her!"

"Sookie, you are brave and strong and fearless, and in this case those characteristics need to be used in not contacting Hadley, not the other way around. I'm sorry that you will not be able to see her right now, but I promise you that I will find a way for you to see her in a way that would not harm either of us. It just has to be this way, for the time being."

"For the time being," I echoed hollowly.

Eric leaned closer to me as he eagerly replied, "You see, Hadley's been keeping her distance this whole time. She knew where you lived and she knew where you worked, but she never sent you a letter or called you on the telephone. Now you must do the same. You have to."

I sighed in defeat. Eric had me beat with his logic. I just couldn't win. "Fine. I will. _For the time being_."

"That's all I ask."

"That's all you're going to get." I was stubborn and acting like a two-year old, but I wanted to see my oldest friend, damnit!

Eric sighed heavily, the kind where his shoulders moved up and down as he took that unnecessary inhale and exhale. "Sookie. This isn't my fault. Do not try to make it like it is. Would you rather I kept this a secret from you, and never told you?" Each time he spoke, I noticed more and more of an accent. Like I needed another reason to listen to every word he said.

"No," I said stubbornly. "But—"

"But it's the way it has to be, _for now_. When the timing is more secure, then you can meet with Hadley. You have gone all of these years not keeping in touch with her. You can manage to keep doing it for some more time. After all, it won't kill you to keep doing that for a little bit longer—but it might kill you to stop and try and contact her." He paused before quietly adding, "I'm not the bad guy here."

"I know you're not, but … she's my family, Eric," I pleaded.

"She's always your family, is she not? She's your family when you didn't know where she was, and she's your family when you do know where she is. Just because you know her physical location doesn't make your love for her any more special. Your love for your family doesn't get any bigger or mean more if you live close to them or see them often, or even remember everything you do with them. Family isn't about phone calls or letters or arranging to see each other. It's about sacrificing yourself for them, and doing what's best for them rather than doing what's best for you, even if you don't want to."

And then, mid-pep talk, Eric stopped himself—noticeably. His mouth clamped down and his jaw tightened. He closed his eyes briefly before looking back at me. "Just wait, Sookie. That's all I'm asking. Just, wait."

"Okay," I said dumbly, still wondering what inspired Eric to be that passionate that quickly. I wanted to ask, but he was looking so … vulnerable? Surprised? Surperable, or vulnised? I mean, I knew what the eyebrow raise and the smirk and the wink meant, but I had no clue what to do with this unguarded emotion clearly shown on his face.

"I need to check in with Pam," he said brusquely after a moment.

I nodded, and that was Eric's cue to get out of his seat and walk over to the back door. He stopped in front of it and looked back at me, and I nodded—Eric's cue that it was okay for him to open it, I guess. He went outside and I remained seated, replaying the events from tonight. I was tempted to hear what he was saying to Pam, but I just sat there, like a mushroom. A thinking mushroom.

When Eric didn't return for some time, I fixed myself the makings for a grilled cheese sandwich. It wasn't until I was flipping the sandwich that Eric returned, quietly closing the door with a hand on the wood until the door was firmly set in place.

"Everything okay?" I asked. When the allotted time for the expected answer came and went, I stopped inspecting the brownness of the bread and looked over at Eric, who was leaning against the refrigerator as comfortably as one can lean against a refrigerator covered with pictures and magnets on almost every inch of its surface.

"Your brother. Jason. He's not … special, like you. Is he?"

I shook my head. "He's not telepathic, if that's what you're asking."

"It is, and it isn't. He doesn't have any powers, any strengths, anything out of the ordinary?"

I snorted. "His cluelessness, maybe. His ability to pick up any woman he wants. Physical strength, natural athleticism. But I'm guessing you're not interested in that."

"I am, but that's not what I meant. There would be no reason for Hadley to tell the queen about him, correct? Other than the fact that he's your brother?"

"I don't think so. Hadley's closer in age to Jason than to me, but she always hung out with me more. I can't think anything out of the ordinary in Jason that would be of interest to a lesbian vampire queen."

"Good, that's good," Eric said, absorbing the information as he nodded at my kitchen table. "Very good."

"Why?"

"I didn't know if I'd have to protect him," he said simply. "But I don't think he's in danger, like you are."

"Yeah, I'd say you're right on that one." I turned the burner off and put my sandwich on a plate, which I then put down on the counter so I could get a glass of milk.

Once I was all set, I started to walk over to the kitchen to sit down when Eric suddenly said, "You could eat outside, if you wanted. The night is clear, and you can see the stars. You wouldn't be too cold, I don't think."

"Sure," I said easily. "Why not?"

Eric silently opened the door and sat on the porch steps; I set myself down next to him, my milk glass in between my feet and my plate on my knees.

"I've come to find that I never tire of the stars," Eric said thoughtfully, looking up at them. I looked over at him, admiring his side profile and the neck porn that was his Adam's apple. I swallowed quickly, and forced myself to look up at the things that gifted me this conversation.

"Oh, really?" I asked distractedly.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him glance at me before staring back up at the sky. Now was my chance. Aaaaaaaand back to the neck porn.

"Yes, really," he replied, seeming entirely at ease right now. "It doesn't seem likely, but it's true. Even though the stars have never changed, I've never grown bored with them. A clear night, such as tonight, was all you could hope for, when I was a human." He paused, and looked like he was lost in that time. "The stars were the whole world back then, not just literally. You could navigate by them, you could make stories about them, and you could admire them. And you could do all that nowadays, but no one does. It's a shame. Stargazing is a lost art."

"Not to mention the damn airplanes and helicopters polluting the night sky," I joked. Eric stopped his ogling of the sky to peek over at me, beaming.

"Exactly."

With that one word, and that one smile, I felt warmer than I did eating my hot sandwich in the frosty night, or standing in front of the stove cooking it. I took a greedy bite out of my dinner to calm down my shit-eating grin.

"I meant to ask you this earlier, but did you like your gift?" Eric asked.

Okay, for most girls, their reaction to that would be probably be a smile or, hell, maybe even a squeal—I'm not judging. But me? I spit the bite of grilled cheese out of my mouth in reaction. And we both watched it fly into the grass—Eric amusedly, me horrifically

"What gift?" I said, not able to look at Eric.

"Your new cell phone? The one I had special-delivered to your house today? It was supposed to be dropped off this morning. Did they not deliver it?"

Now I looked at Eric, big time. "What? You got me a cell phone?"

He nodded. "I did; I just don't know if you got it."

"Well, I only woke up like an hour ago, and I haven't gone outside yet. I should probably get the mail and newspaper anyways, but—" But by that time Eric had already whizzed off somewhere, and I was standing by myself thinking, _"Huh?"_

But then Eric was suddenly in front of me, holding a gift-wrapped box. "It kind of takes the fun out of it, I guess—knowing what you're getting," he said, smiling crookedly as he held it out for me to take. "But here you are."

"The wrapping paper is beautiful," I smiled back at him as I stepped forward to take the box. I unwrapped the paper off as carefully as I could, folding it back up in case I ever had to wrap something in thick, silvery wrapping paper.

"The cell phone in the box is the present, not the wrapping paper,' Eric said confusedly. "I thought humans just tore off the paper and threw it away."

"Uh, not the cool ones," I scoffed jokingly.

His eyes crinkled when he nodded his head mock-seriously and replied, "Ah. I see."

I opened the box and found a small silver flip-phone, a charger, and a certificate stating that the bill for the next six months was already taken care of. "Eric! You shouldn't have. And I'm not saying that rhetorically. You really didn't need to."

"On the contrary, I think I did. What if something happens to you and you need to reach me? What if something happens to me and I need to reach you? Considering what just happened in the past forty-eight hours, I think it's necessary. You needed a cell phone, and I got you one, so now you have one. I don't see what the problem is."

"Okay, but you didn't need to pay all the bills for the next six months! That's a half a year so that's way too much money!"

"How do you know how much it costs to have a cell phone for six months if you've never had a cell phone?" he asked, not exactly sounding mock-serious.

"That is so not the point, Eric! You don't need to spend so much money on me all the time, what with the check and now this! It's too much! I can take care of myself."

"The check was promised to you—and it's the same amount of money I would have to pay if I were to stay in a vampire-safe hotel for two weeks. Housing a vampire is costly, and not just in the financial sense of the word. You know that. As for the cell phone, you needed one, and I had the means to give you what you needed. And with a murderer in Bon Temps and a possible kidnapper across the cemetery and a vampire-queen looking to force you to live with her in New Orleans, you should have a cell phone just in case something happens and I'm not there."

"But—"

"Plus, I added you on my family plan, so it's only $9.99 per month." He shrugged. "Peanuts, really."

I sighed. "Thank you for the gift, Eric. I'm floored by the thought you put into it, I am. Don't get me wrong. But you don't need to look after my finances like I'm an eighteen year-old living away from home for the first time! I've been looking after myself all my life."

"If it's easier for you to accept the phone this way, then I'll give it to you because you're the official telepath of Fangtasia and I'll need to be able to contact you immediately if a crisis ever occurs and your telepathic presence is needed. I'll even have you come and read all of the employees once a week if it makes you feel better. Whatever the reason, I want you to have this phone as a safety precaution."

"Do you give all of your employees cell phones?"

"Depends on the employee," he replied honestly. "But I provide health insurance and other similar benefits for all of my employees. And Ginger and Belinda certainly weren't protesting when they ended up in the hospital because they were working at Fangtasia."

"Wait, you provide health insurance for all your employees?" I asked curiously, temporarily distracted from the whole cell-phone thing. Sam didn't do that. And here people were saying vampires were mean and distrustful and cheap.

Eric's eyes popped open. "Sookie, please tell me you have health insurance."

I opened my mouth but didn't say anything, so I closed it back up.

"No? You don't have health insurance? That _dog_ can't even make sure his waitresses are covered?" Eric seethed. If he was angry before, he was livid now. Every muscle in his body was tensed up, and he clenched his hands into fists.

When I didn't respond, he said, in a choked voice, "Well, you will now."

"Eric, I don't want to be your kept woman."

"You're not. But do you want to be just my woman?" he replied simply.

I was shocked at how he just put everything out there on me. Ball was way in my court now, and he was waiting for an answer. "The last time I was your woman, things ended badly."

"I feel safe in saying that won't happen again."

"You're just distracting me so I won't try and fight you from giving me health insurance!"

"If you'll remember, the topic of health insurance came up when I said I provided it for every single one of my employees. If you're the official telepath of Fangtasia, then you are an employee, and therefore you are eligible for health insurance, which you need."

Looking smug when I didn't respond, he added, "And I think now you're just distracting me so I won't try and get you to admit that there is a romantic relationship brewing between us. Which is fine. I know it's there, even if I don't remember some of it, and you definitely know it's there. The mere fact that you don't want to admit it shows that you know it's there, and that is enough for me. I am a patient man, Sookie Stackhouse, and I will wait for you to say and act on your feelings, however long that might take."

Now my mouth was opening and closing like I was a fish out of water. He smirked and said, "You said my clothes were done? I'm feeling a bit … frigid." And then he walked back inside the house, leaving me, my dirty plate, and my stewing thoughts all alone. Just like that.

After a huff, I followed him into the living room, where he was calmly unfolding his pants that I had left on the dryer. He turned around to face me as he stepped into them, slowly pulling them up and then doing the zipper and the button. Then he reached for the undershirt and pulled it over his head, tugging it down so that it covered his chest but still showed all of his muscles in an indecent way. His movements weren't fluid and graceful like they always were, but rather jaunty and stilted. Once he was done he finally said something to me.

"I want you to know I don't need you to do my laundry for me. It's too much. You didn't have to, you know. I don't want to be your kept man. I'm perfectly capable of doing my own laundry. You're treating me like an eighteen year-old living by themselves for the first time," he said bitingly, raising an eyebrow at me the whole time.

That man. I wanted to rip his head off.

I swallowed hard and crossed my arms, but I didn't say or do anything else. I hated how he was using my argument against me to make a point. Even if it was a damn good point. We had a little staring contest/Mexican face off thing, where neither of us said anything and neither of us looked away.

Alright. So I caved. My jaw might have been a little tight, and my chin might have been raised a little high, but I still said, "I'm sorry if I seemed ungrateful or unhappy when you gave me the cell phone and promised the health insurance. The truth is … I'm not used to anyone giving me anything if it's not my birthday or Christmas. Money was always tight, and I was raised to never take any charity from anyone. I didn't know how to react to your gift-giving tonight, but at least now I know I reacted the wrong way. So thank you, Eric. And I'm saying that genuinely, not sarcastically or angrily or anything like that. Just … thank you."

After a few seconds, Eric nodded stoically. After a few more seconds, he replied, "I regret the way I acted with the clothing. Thank you for doing the laundry. But I'm not sorry I gave you the cell phone or the health insurance."

"Okay."

"Okay." Pause. Grin. Eyebrow waggle. "Come over here."

Smiling a little, I did just that, and he wrapped me in his arms, giving me a big hug. I squeezed back hard, rubbing circles on his back. He was stroking my hair softly, his face resting on my collarbone. I suddenly realized that he hadn't healed the bite marks from last night, but I didn't say anything.

Eric released me, only to look down at me with a twinkle in his eye. "Want to see if the phrase 'practice makes perfect' transfers to you learning how to accept gifts?"

I laughed and punched him on the arm. "Hardy har har."

But then he sobered up quickly. "I'm not saying I'll never give you anything ever again. You should know that I like giving things to those who need them. I especially like giving things to those who deserve them. Pam is spoiled; she takes what she has, and what I give her, for granted. You, on the other hand, do not."

He tilted his head, still looking down at me. "I like to think that perhaps you will think of me, when you use this phone. I like that my number was the first one placed in your phone. I like that my number is the first one on your speed dial. I like that my picture is currently the background of your phone." I smiled then, and Eric did too as he added, "And I like that even if you do change all of that, it'll take some time because you don't know how to use a cell phone."

"I won't change any of that. I wasn't even thinking about it," I murmured in reply.

His smile got bigger. "I like that too."

**…**

**Raise your hand if you want to be on Eric's _family_ plan! *raises hands and feet***


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Hey all. So how bout that TB epi last night? GAH. FRANKLIN MOTT. I am so Team Franklin now. Also, Team Jessica and Team Tommy Mickens, but only when he said Hoyt looked like he got bombed by radiation on his way to middle school and looks like he's a grown-ass sixth grade boy :) Especially because I want two of them to hook up (Jessica + Tommy) when Jessica inevitably tries to make Hoyt jealous. Is it a bad sign that my two favorite characters are ones that AB created? =/**

**Thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty for taking time out of her Frontierville playing (it's a Facebook game, I guess? She's trying to convert me, I think :P) to go beta-ninja on this chapter's metaphorical ass. **

…

After Eric and I made up, we went and sat down on the living room couch and Eric showed me how to use my cell phone. I burst out laughing when I opened it up for the first time and saw a picture of a smiling Eric holding up his own cell phone and looking goofy as hell making the universal "call me" sign. And of course his shirt _would_ be off.

Once I finished giggling, I looked over at Eric, who frowned as he grumbled, "Most women don't laugh when they see a shirtless picture of me."

Of course that just made me go and laugh even harder. Typical Eric.

"I suppose I should know by now that you aren't most women," he said wistfully, looking sideways at me.

"Damn straight," I said in a more controlled voice than I would have thought. "Now, how do I call you on this thing?"

Eric patiently showed me how to add a contact and call and text and make emoticons and even pick a ringtone—I just chose one of those electronic ones that didn't annoy me too much; he said I could buy a ringtone, and showed me how to get to the list of available ones for purchase, but I said I'd do that another time. He looked doubtful, but he didn't push it.

"Ready for a trial round?" he asked after he finished his tutorial.

"Yep."

He went upstairs to get his phone and called me from my bedroom. I opened my phone and took the call, exclaiming "Got it!" when I answered.

"Great. Now, here's for the tricky part … texting." He hung up, and some seconds and one ringtone later I got a new text message from him.

_'Got a txt from Pam. Bill called. He's going to be at Fangtasia in 1/2 hr.'_

_'WTF? :('_I replied before heading over the stairs to find Eric

_'WTF … Why The Face? Explain.'_

I laughed, and then heard Eric hmmph—he was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. "WTF means What the Fuck, Eric. But your explanation's pretty good too," I teased, stopping a couple stairs below him.

He smiled good-naturedly, and then became somber once again as he said, "But I really must be leaving now, if I am to meet him in Fangtasia."

"Yeah." I didn't make to move. Eric didn't either. We just stood frozen where we were, watching the other person.

"You know, I really didn't need another reason to dislike Bill," Eric said, smiling at me.

"I know, right? It's total Billshit," I replied.

Eric chuckled. "Billshit. I like that."

Sighing heavily, he slipped his phone back in his pocket and sat down on the top step. I went and sat on the second. "Here, we should just switch spots, if we're going to be on the same level," I said, and we did just that.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," I found myself saying, and any embarrassment or self-doubt I had evaporated once I saw a mega-watt grin light up Eric's face.

"Funny, I feel the same way."

We both gazed at each other, but neither of us said anything to break the spell.

"So I was thinking … I could always be a little late … it'd be a good intimidation tactic," Eric finally murmured, his eyes zeroing in on my lips in that way guys always do in movies before they lean in for a heart-stopping, dream-inducing, eyelid fireworks-starting kiss.

"Good idea," I said, starting to lean a little closer. He was speaking softly, and I needed to be in a position to hear what he was saying, or lip-read if I couldn't. _Yeah._ So I, um, really needed to be in close proximity to his lips, just in case. _Yeah._

"Think so?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. In that moment faces were being angled, lips were being parted open, necks were being craned, and my heart was beating loudly—and it wasn't enough.

"Know so," I whispered back, looking at Eric from under hooded eyelids.

Eric placed his hand on my knee to steady himself, and then that was it. I lowered my head and he met me halfway in the sweetest, softest kiss that grew a little less innocent the longer he and his lips were mine. My hands drifted through his hair to the back of his neck and ended on his shoulders—his strong, muscular shoulders. He kept the one hand on my knee, and brought the other to my face, cupping it gently as he brought it closer to his.

I was tingling all over, but I couldn't tell if that was because of how I was perched on the stair, or what Eric was making me feel. Not that it mattered—more important things to think about right now!

But then Eric's phone vibrated in his pocket, the one that was next to my leg. I pulled back slightly, a little out of breath, but Eric just pushed forward even more to resume the kiss. I lost myself in those kisses, forgetting why I even tried to stop in the first place, but then his phone started vibrating again, and I pulled back for real this time.

Scowling, Eric reached into his pocket and flipped his phone open. "Pam has the worst timing," he said gruffly, snapping the phone closed and stuffing it back in his pocket.

"Agreed," I said breathlessly.

Eric smiled, and then looked up at me as he crossed both of his hands on my knees and rested his chin on them. "Why don't you come to Fangtasia?"

"And do what?" I said, wrinkling my nose at the prospect of sitting in a booth for two hours being stared at by fangbangers.

"I don't know. You could use my office if you didn't want to be on the floor; I could take Bill to a conference room, or even a booth. You could read or watch a movie or go on my laptop—you haven't eaten yet, have you?"

"Well … before you woke up, I did," I admitted.

Eric shook his head. "That's not enough for a human. If I know that, it must be true. Come, Pam and I are trying to put together a bar menu. You can be our test subject and try the food out while I take care of Bill."

"What's Pam going to be doing?" I asked, brightening at the prospect of hanging out with Pam and finding out her opinion of human food.

"If you came, she would sit with you and keep you company, with whatever you decide to do. I promise you that," Eric said. "Plus, I'm sure the meeting with Bill won't take long. The only reason why it would is it might take me sometime to understand his hideous Southern drawl."

He cracked a smile at me, and I snorted. "Wait, I have that same drawl … probably. I mean, Jesus, he lives across the cemetery from me!"

"Past tense. We don't know yet if it's present. And isn't he just the boy-next-door," Eric grumbled, not liking how I stood up for Bill.

I swatted his shoulder. "Hey now. You of all people should know I didn't mean anything by it."

"If it's any consolation, your accent isn't, and never will be, as corny or desperate-sounding as Bill's," Eric said. "And your Southern sayings are quite amusing. I will never tire of them."

"Well, I gotta go get dressed for Fangtasia, but I promise to be as quick as a redneck driving to the closest brown paper bag liquor store before Nascar Sundays!" I quipped, jumping up and all but skipping to my room once I heard Eric's hearty laugher behind me.

I wasn't in the mood to get all dressed up, so I just put on a pair of tight jeans and a black v-neck sweater. It was one that I should have worn a cami or little tank top under but didn't, so my cleavage was showing—or, well, showing more than those damn boobs usually do, I should say. But I kind of liked that I would be wearing this for Eric. One pair of silver ballet flats and my Gran's diamond studs and I was good to go. I did a double-check in the mirror, and that's when I saw my bite marks from our little show at Fangtasia.

They looked exactly like you'd expect vampire bite marks to look like. I was ashamed to admit it, but I could see why the fangbangers took pride in their marks, even going so far as to paint on their own. It was like a wedding ring, in a crazy twisted sort of way—it showed you were wanted by someone. But, I would put my theory through the ringer, and see if having someone get rid of the vampire bites would mean they wanted you even more.

The expression Eric gave me when I walked down the stairs and found him sitting on the couch, with Tina on his lap too, said everything he didn't those few seconds where he just gazed worshipfully at me.

"I've said this before and I'll say it again, but you do not need those fancy dresses for Fangtasia," Eric said after he swallowed noticeably. "In fact, you should wear those jeans and that sweater more often. I'lk even buy you multiple pairs of them, in fact."

I threw him a look to show him what I thought of his little jab about buying me things. "Thanks." I cleared my throat then, and added, "Um, Eric, would you mind, ah, healing these bite marks?" I pointed to them too, like he wasn't the one who put them there.

If I hadn't been holding his attention before, I definitely would have had it by now. He was staring hard at me as he slowly replied, "Of course not. May I ask why?"

"When I talked to the Sherriff about Jason and mentioned that Maudette's corpse had bite marks, he asked if it was you, or Bill, or Pam. Everyone knows you guys from that night at Merlotte's, when all of a sudden there were three vampires running around the bar. And, um, I just think it would be easier for, um, everyone if I didn't have bite marks. On my neck."

"I understand," Eric said soberly. He smiled quickly, one that was too fast to show teeth, and he walked over to where I was standing so he could prick his finger with a fang and place it on the bite marks without the wound closing up or the blood dripping to stain my clothes. After a couple seconds he dropped his hand and stepped back. "There. All done."

"Thank you," I said. "But I'm not ashamed. I want you to know that. I'm not ashamed of the bite marks or why they're there or how they're there or anything like that. It's just that, even though there's no way any of you guys killed Maudette, the prejudiced people of Bon Temps don't know that. And Jason's been in enough trouble with Maudette, I don't want to bring any more drama.

Eric nodded seriously. He paused before saying, "We should be leaving now. Unless you want to fly, I suggest driving."

"Driving's fine," I replied easily. "I'll bring my phone too. We can text each other when Bill's being too boring."

"I like the way you think," he grinned, seeming more like normal when he winked at me. I went and got my keys, and when I walked back to the living room Tina was rubbing herself against Eric's legs. I smiled looking at my two closest friends.

Eric looked up and smiled up at me. "Night, kittykat," he said, nodding seriously at Tina. As he walked towards the door, he glanced over his shoulder and smirked wickedly at me. I was shaking my head and laughing as I closed the door.

"Oh, so is it my turn to get jealous now?" I teased, raising an eyebrow at him as we walked down the steps together. I was mostly kidding.

Eric raised an eyebrow at me, but it wasn't a fun eyebrow like mine—it was a serious one. "Touché."

That sobered me up real fast. I didn't know what to say. Eric just continued walking over to his side of the car, and I stood still for a couple seconds before I quickly scrambled over to mine.

I started the car up and got out of my driveway, and it wasn't until we got to the center of town that Eric spoke up. "When I was human, I had a cat," he murmured, looking out of the car window.

I stared at him, for his unexpected but appreciated volunteering of information. "What was its name?"

"I actually can't remember his name." He looked at me and smiled a little sadly. "I remember the color of his fur in the sunlight, and I remember how he sounded when he purred, and I remember how he closed his eyes when I rubbed his stomach. But I can't remember his name."

I saw headlights of an approaching car and switched my eyes back to the road. But I nodded to show I was listening. Eric had never really told me about his human life.

"He was a wedding present," Eric murmured, and I immediately turned to look at him, surprise written all over my face. Eric had never really told me he was married.

"Yes, I was married," he smiled, conceding. "I was a good husband, too. When I became a man, at the age of twelve, I had many marriage offers. My family was considered to be wealthy, and I was very handsome. And you'll probably laugh at this, but I wasn't interested in any village girl ... at that time. I was more excited about finally being able to train to be a great warrior and fight in battles."

I snorted at the thought, and Eric shook his head, chuckling. "See? I told you, you would laugh."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes Eric, you know me _sooooo_ well. What was her name?"

Eric opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He closed his mouth, staring at me all the while.

"I'm sorry. Is that too personal? Shoot. I'm sorry. I was just asking, I didn't—"

"Sookie, stop," Eric said loudly, effectively stopping my rambling. He leaned over and placed his hand on my knee, shaking it a little. I looked shyly at him, wishing my weird-ass vampire-telepathy would choose now to introduce itself, so I could hear what Eric was thinking when he was looking at me like _that_. "Don't ever, _ever_ apologize for trying to get to know me better. Alright?"

"Okay. So … how old were you when you got married?"

Eric took his hand away, and I was sad for the loss of its pressure, its coolness, and most of all, its meaning. "I was sixteen. Aude was older, at eighteen? Nineteen?" He looked out the window, trying to drudge up the memories from long ago. "She was my elder brother's wife. When he died in battle, I had to marry her to keep the families intact. But I had always liked her—she was a skillful cook, and she was very good at housekeeping. She was more than willing to marry me. We were happy; we worked well together."

"Did you have children?" I asked, fascinated by all of this, and also his openness and honesty.

"Yes. Aude had … we had six children." His lips quirked upwards in a smile, but then they turned themselves upside down.

"Did they live?" I asked quietly.

"Three lived," he said, and he smiled. "Two boys and a girl. Two died at birth. And with the sixth child, Aude died, too."

"This is about a thousand years too late, so you'll have to excuse its tardiness, but I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Thank you," he replied, bowing his head in appreciation. He looked out the window, at the passing scenery, as he tried to resurrect thousand-year-old memories. "She and the baby caught a fever. I suppose it was from some sort of an infection. Then, if people got sick, they mostly died. Aude and the baby perished within hours of each other. I buried them in a beautiful tomb," he said proudly. "My wife had her best broach on her dress, and I laid the baby on her breast."

He had never sounded less like a modern man. "How old were you?"

Eric considered it. "I was in my early twenties," he said. "Perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five."

"What happened to your children?"

"When I became a vampire?"

I nodded. "They couldn't have been very old."

"No, they were small. It happened not long after Aude's death," he said. "I only saw them once after I was turned—maybe three years later. They were so old, then. I saw them from a distance, as I couldn't get too close or else I might be recognized, but you didn't need vampire vision to see that they had changed, that things had changed. But I saw that my sister had adopted them and they were safe. Happy too. That was as much as I could hope for them."

"Oh, Eric," I sighed, my heart hearting for his.

"Yes. Life was harder back then," he said simply, shrugging off the last part. He looked over and smiled at me.

I smiled back. And after a couple seconds I asked, "So, uh, why did you get a cat for a wedding present again?"

Eric burst out laughing. I giggled too, but mostly at his reaction. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt—because he obviously didn't need it—so he really was just plain old doubled over with laughter.

When he finally composed himself to look at me, he explained, "In my culture, cats were seen as a symbol of our most beloved goddess, Freyja. She's the goddess of many things, like love and beauty and fertility, and she rode a cart driven by cats. Kittens were often given to new brides, as they were associated with the goddess of love, and were seen as the first start of setting up a new household and family."

"Oh. Okay."

Eric smiled brilliantly at me, and I basked in its glow for the rest of the car ride. Especially when he leaned over and asked me if I had any musical preferences as he started fiddling with the radio.

After I stopped internally squeeing, I told him he could pick, and he finally settled with a live debate between this woman named Nan Flanagan and this man named Reverend Theodore Newlin. They were discussing the vampire rights amendment, which the woman was in favor of, and the man definitely wasn't. He kept going on and on about Jay-sus and Our Lord and the Bible, but he wasn't making sense even to a lifelong Christian church-going girl like me.

"Nan's the spokesperson for the AVL, the American Vampire League," Eric explained during a commercial break.

"Oh. Guess that's why she's in favor of vampire rights," I cracked. "But she's certainly holding her own."

"Nan's a fighter. She's only about four hundred years ago, but she is clever and quick-thinking. It's why I voted for her when we were deciding who would be presented to the public."

"This might sound stupid, but I'm surprised your name wasn't put up with hers."

"What do you mean?" Eric asked curiously, looking right at me.

I blushed. "I mean, she sounds smart, like she's really good at reading people. You're the same way. I'd bet my Gran's box of pie recipes that she's attractive. Is she?"

Eric considered it. "I've never had any attachments to her, personally, but yes, she would be considered attractive. Tall, thin, blonde, well-dressed. Someone pretty enough that one look at her would make a human want to know a vampire."

"She really sounds like you, then." I blushed even harder, but Eric seemed pleased.

"It's funny that you say that. My name was thrown out, in the very beginning stage of creating the AVL and planning the revelation, but I didn't want that stuffy, bureaucratic position. I'm happy with my own little slice of Louisiana," he admitted.

Then the commercial break ended and the program came back on, so our conversation halted as we listened to the man make a fool out of himself. We'd discuss the debate during the commercial breaks, and it went on like that for the rest of the ride.

I pulled around to the back of the club once we arrived, and I parked in the same spot as last time, next to Eric's Corvette.

"Aren't you scared of leaving it here all the time? It's been, what, two days?"

Eric nodded. "I was thinking about that earlier, actually."

I wanted to ask if he thought of a solution, but I held my tongue. That car was Eric's baby, so it'd be his decision. But I knew my decision would be for him to not go home in it, and to go home in my car.

We walked into his office through the secret passage, with Eric's hand on the small of my back the whole time, and almost as soon as Eric closed the door shut Pam zoomed in the room.

"He's waiting for you, Eric," she said seriously. Then she looked at me and smirked. "I like your sweater. You look like a dream."

"Thank you Pam," Eric said quickly. "You will stay with Sookie. She hasn't fed yet for the day."

"I have. She was delicious," Pam said, licking her lips.

"Really, Pam? That's all you got?" Eric replied incredulously. They had a little staring contest before Pam broke it off to stare at the floor. Looking smug, he added, "As I was saying, Sookie hasn't fed yet and I told her she could try all the possible menu items and give us her feedback. You can be in charge of collecting the data."

Pam flashed a smile at me. "Sounds like we're going to have a blast."

I nodded enthusiastically and then turned to Eric. "You should really get going. Bill's waiting for you."

He nodded distractedly. "Did you see the new couch I ordered?" He gestured to where it was in the corner of the room; it was big and black and leather.

"It looks soft," I said. But really, it was just a couch. What was he getting all excited about it for, anyway?

"Come. Sit." He took my hand and we sat down on the couch. It was just as soft as it looked, and it had that fresh leathery smell I liked. "I bought it after you fell asleep in one of the chairs. They didn't look comfortable to sleep on, and this did."

"Thank you, Eric. I'm touched by the gesture," I said honestly. "Now, shoo!" I grinned, swatting him off the couch.

"Shoo?" He looked confused, especially when he exchanged a look with Pam and she shrugged her shoulders to show she didn't know what the hell I was saying either.

I giggled. "Yeah. Skat. Move it. Get going. Leave."

"Aah. Well then, I must shoo. Until later, Sookie," he said, leaning over to give me a kiss. He kept it simple and brief and very, very enjoyable.

He nodded at Pam as he walked past her on his way to the door, and then, with a final glance back at me, he was gone.

Pam came over and sat next to me on the couch. "Sookie, we are going to have so much fun tonight."

…

**And just a quick thing—I got the "WTF … Why The Face?" part from **_**Modern Family**_**, which is currently my favorite sitcom on TV. In the show it's a father who thinks WTF means Why The Face, but I thought it would be funny if Eric was the one who said it. ****Also, Eric's human life story is pretty much all CH's—the part with the cats, however, I found from my Norse research. But that's not mine either. **

**So … since I'm so gung-ho Team Franklin, what was your favorite line of his from the episode? Mine was when he was like, "****Tr… 'Trust me, motherfucker.' **_**Brilliant**_**. Hey, Tara, watch how fast I type 'motherfucker.' It's cool, right?" If you follow me on tumblr (afalcone10 . tumblr . com) then you'd know that my page is pretty much littered with Franklin Mott. He's a crazy freak, but I want him to be my crazy freak. :D**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Hey guys! It seemed like Franklin Mott is getting to everyone! Almost every review mentioned him, and I think every scene he was in for the last episod was referenced as a favorite! I think that's a sign, right? *cough* Extend James Frain's contract *double cough* Extend Franklin Mott's screen time *triple cough* Extend Franklin Mott's dialogue. **

**I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE WHAT BAT-CRAZY SHENANIGANS HE WILL GET UP TO TOMORROW! WUT WUT?**

**Anyways ... thank you to my beta chiisai-kitty for her terriffic memory on all things SVM, and for CH for her terriffic memory on all things SVM too! I kid about the last one, but I do it out of love. After all, she's responsible for creating Eric, isn't she? :P**

...

Pam had left for a few minutes to order the food—she refused to let me know what she'd ordered, claiming it'd be more fun if it was a surprise. She'd only laughed when I told her I already had more than enough surprises to deal with.

Now she was back—with an annoying smirk played out on her glossy red lips, no less—and carrying a stack of fashion magazines, including three copies of _Vogue _in English, French, and Italian, which made me feel even more overwhelmed and out of place. But, I still had fun looking at the funny poses the models had, and I had even more fun when an exasperated Pam tried to explain to me how the contours of their body were aesthetically stimulating. She did, however, bark out a laugh when I jokingly retorted, "You mean, aesthetically _slim_ulating?"

A couple pages into my copy of _ELLE,_ Pam went to check on the food, and that's when my phone started ringing in my pocket. I took it out and saw that there was one new text message—from Eric, the only person who knew my cell phone number.

_Bill is still here. WTF? ): K_

I laughed. His vampire frowny face was silly, and it made me question whether or not he really believed WTF meant "What The Fuck" instead of "Why The Face."

_Make him shoo!, _I replied_, _smiling whileremembering how he had botched that slang too. For a vampire, he didn't have that tight of a grasp of the modern vernacular and regular human customs. But that was one of the reasons why I enjoyed his company so much. It made up for my all-around cluelessness with supernatural politics, so we made for a good team.

The door opened then, and Pam waltzed in with Ginger behind her, struggling to push a big fancy chef's cart with a silver top covering up the food. Smiling nervously, Ginger wheeled the cart in front of me and quietly left the room.

"New toy?" Pam asked, eyeing my cell phone.

"Uh, yeah, Eric just gave it to—"

Pam snatched it out of my hand and started pushing a lot of buttons at vampire speed. She triumphantly handed it back to me, explaining, "I added my number to your pitiful contacts list, and I texted me your number. Also, nice background picture."

"Um, thanks."

"My pleasure. Now, let's eat, shall you?"

As I laughed, she took the top off of the cart, and when I saw how much food was on it I stopped laughing and started gaping. It was mostly filled with desserts and standard bar food—chicken fingers, chicken wings, mozzarella sticks, and a bunch of other food we served at Merlotte's. Except, as Pam later told me, they were called by different names. The chicken fingers, for example, were called Frankenfingers, with a dollop of ketchup, mustard, or barbeque sauce on one side of the chicken finger—to serve as a fingernail. It made me laugh. So did the "nightmare nachos" and the "mozzarella sticks with a homemade blood sauce." I felt like I was at a pricey Halloween party.

Pam took it all in from one of the leather chairs, daintily sipping on some sort of blood concoction in a fancy drink glass. "It's a mocktail of virgin blood," she explained when she caught me looking at it. "Simply divine."

I nodded and took a drink of my Shirley Temple—and it wasn't until I asked Pam why a vampire bar would want to carry a kiddie drink that she said their drink was a little more grown up, as it was called Shirley Temple's Blood. Oh. She tried to persuade me into trying everything, but I was too stuffed to even contemplate taking a bite out of the cupcakes with sugar fangs on the icing. I did, however, take the goblet of "death by chocolate?" mousse and a spoon and set it aside, so I could enjoy it later on in the evening.

After Pam asked me three times if my human appetite was satisfied—she said Eric would cut her spending allowance if I went untended to—and interrogated me about the tastiness of every item I had eaten, she said she'd have Ginger throw out all of the food.

"What? All that food?" I asked incredulously, staring at the huge cart of leftovers.

"Sure. Why not?" Pam shrugged her shoulders and stared at me.

"Oh gosh no! That's such a waste of food, Pam! Why don't you just have Ginger wheel the cart to the employee room or something, for all of the human waitresses to eat after work?"

Pam didn't say anything; she just continued to gaze at me. I didn't know if that was because she was going over what I was saying in her head, or it was some intimidation tactic she was using because she didn't like that I was suggesting something to her. Anything was possible with Pam.

"It would, uh, inspire trust and loyalty and … a closer bond between employer and employee," I mumbled quickly, half under my breath.

Pam continued to stare at me, and then she barked out, "Ginger!" while still looking at me.

About a minute later Ginger teetered in and stopped in the doorway, looking expectantly at Pam for instruction.

"Bring this to the employee room. Tell the girls they can have the rest of the food," Pam said, talking to Ginger while _still _looking at me. Okay, like, did I have a Frankenfinger bit stuck in between my teeth or something? Because, seriously, what was _up_ with the staring?

I wished Pam wasn't focusing on me, if only so she could see the huge grin that lit up Ginger's face, and how her eyes got really big when she realized what Pam was saying. She managed to compose herself enough to say, "Yes, Mistress," before she quickly wheeled the cart out to wherever the employee room was.

"Oh, haiiiii there," I heard Ginger squeal as the door was closing. Pam and I both looked over to where the door was, and were surprised to see Eric walk through it, looking over his shoulder, presumably at Ginger.

"Was the food not to your liking?" Eric asked, walking over and sitting down on the couch next to me. "I saw Ginger carrying most of it somewhere."

"Oh, no, the food was great, Eric. There was just, uh, too much of it. I mean, I'm a human, not a piggie!" I said, nudging his shoulder playfully.

He smiled briefly at me. Then he turned to Pam and said, "Pam, leave us."

She stared at him for a minute with lips slightly parted, like she was going to say something to him. But she didn't. She just shook her head and left the room. That wasn't good.

"What's up?" I asked cautiously. Even if you couldn't see the tightness or tension of Eric's face, you could tell something was making him a little off. There were lines etched on his face, and not the good laugh lines, but worry lines. Worry wrinkles. Definitely not good.

I quickly looked him over, and it was then that I saw he was clutching a manila folder in his hand, clutching it so tightly his knuckles were little white knobs standing out against a backdrop of pure white.

"What's with the folder, Eric? Did Bill give it to you? What happened?"

Eric took a long, deep, unnecessary sigh. I could tell he was mulling things over, trying to figure out the best way to say what he'd inevitably say to me, no matter how much he didn't want to. He was building up to something, and I desperately wanted to know what it was.

"Do you remember the last time I had a Fangtasia meeting with Bill, and I had to tell you something devastating? I asked if you wanted the good news first, or the bad news first?"

I nodded, biting my lip. That wasn't a particularly good way to start a conversation.

"I'm afraid you don't have that option tonight."

He slid an arm around over my shoulder, the one that wasn't already touching his, and moved me closer to him. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, like what you do when you don't want to see something, and you want someone to shelter you away from the sight. Only this time, it was something I didn't want to hear, and it wouldn't get any better no matter how close I was to Eric's chest.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "Alright. Let's get it over with."

With his free hand, Eric took a paper out of the folder and placed it on my lap. I opened an eye, and then both, and then moved my head and picked up the paper. It looked like a family tree … _my family tree_. It showed me and my brother and my parents and both sets of grandparents, and then their families. But only two names were circled; mine, and my grandmothers'. That's it.

"Is this … ?" I asked, trailing off at the end.

"Yes, it's your family tree," Eric said quietly. "Bill gave it to me tonight."

"Um, what the hell is Bill doing with a homemade version of my family tree?" I asked, looking up at Eric.

"Bill and the queen think you are a descendent of a very old, and very powerful, fairy family line," he replied, watching me the whole time.

"Fairy?" I asked, trying out the word. I hadn't thought about fairies since the last time I watched _Peter Pan_. "Like, Tinkerbell-fairy? They're real?"

"Indeed. But they are, in most cases, not as nice as Tinkerbell. Though, they are every bit as beautiful."

I took that in. First vampires, then witches, then shifters, then werewolves, and now fairies. What was next, flying pigs? "Okay. Okay. So fairies are real, fine. Apparently they're mean and beautiful, but that's not the issue right now. What does any of this have to do with me?"

Eric leaned over to lightly tap my Gran's name and circle on the paper. "Bill seemed to believe your Gran had her two children with a fairy, one named Fintan. Does that name sound familiar to you, Sookie? Do you remember hearing or seeing or reading anything about a Fintan?"

"No. And I think I'd remember a name that strange. Fintan. Nope. But Gran? _My Gran_—having an affair? An affair that ended up in kids? Gran would never do that. She loved her husband, and she loved her Jesus. She wouldn't cheat on either of them, I know it." I crossed my arms and looked at Eric. "Bill's even stupider than I thought. Either that, or he's playing you."

Eric shook his head sadly. "I don't think he is. Playing me, I mean."

"You're wrong," I said stubbornly. Gran wouldn't cheat on her husband, the one she loved, the one she sat next to on his death bed, the one she swore to God she'd be faithful to. This was Gran we were talking about, not some character on a soap opera.

Getting riled up, I opened my mouth to blow up at Eric and how he shouldn't trust Bill over me on something I had firsthand knowledge of, but he held up a hand and said, "Let's just save time and assume I'm right, for now. As much as I regret having to say this to you … there are a lot of things about you that would make sense if you have fae blood in you."

"Like what? My telepathy?"

"Didn't you ever wonder why you had it? Why you could read minds when no one else could?"

"Yeah, of course I did. I just thought there was something wrong with me."

"No. There's nothing wrong with you. It's your fae-ness; Bill thought you had an essential fae spark in you, one that can unpredictably skip over generations and place itself in a worthy vessel … you."

"This fairy … this Fintan. He must have raped her. That's the only way," I said, not done thinking about my Gran to even start considering this whole essential spark business.

Eric sighed. "I'm sorry I don't know specifics at this moment, Sookie. And I regret that I'm the one who has to make your world come crashing down; I almost wish I didn't want Bill to stay the hell away from you, so he could be the one to tell you the news I have to tell you, and he could see what his news is doing to you. But he didn't know the specifics, and he didn't care to find out. He had all the information that he needed—that your Gran gave birth to two children with a certain amount of fairy blood in them, fairy blood that was passed down to you."

"You keep saying I have fairy blood in me, like I'm supposed to know what that means."

"Fairy blood is like an elixir to a vampire; it's like the only drug we can take. It's intoxicatingly sweet and delicious. It's a treat." He licked his lips just thinking about it.

"The first time you tasted my blood, I asked you if my blood tasted different and you said yes," I said, thinking out loud.

Eric nodded. "I don't know if I knew what fairy blood tasted like then, but when I had your blood at Fangtasia I just thought your blood was better than most. Fairy blood just tastes incredibly sweet; there is no specific taste to it. It's like … it's like sugar," he said, sounding proud that he found an analogy, and not just any old analogy but one that involved a human custom, cooking, that he knew I liked.

"There's a lot of different types of sugar, correct? I've been in the baking aisle of a supermarket before. There is brown sugar, and white sugar, and real sugar, and fake sugar. There's also powdered sugar and crystal sugar and liquid sugar. You can't eat a cookie and be able to tell the exact brand or form of sugar that's in it, yes? Fairy blood is the same way. You just know it tastes good, and you don't really stop to question how. Do you understand?"

I nodded. That made sense. I kind of wished it didn't.

He continued, "Well, your blood tastes sweeter, and that sometimes happens to some humans. I just thought you were one of them, but you're not like the others."

"So my blood tastes sweeter, and that's it? I must be descended from fairies?"

"There's the blood, and there's your telepathy," Eric said.

"Are fairies telepathic?"

"None that I know of, but I do not know a lot of fairies, or much about them. They do their best to stay out of our way. But telepathy is rooted in deep magic, much like fairies. The average human cannot read minds, just like the average human doesn't have exceptionally sweet blood like you."

"What else do you know about fairies?"

"They aren't immortal, but they live a very long time unless something happens to them. Niall's one of the older fairies, but he's at least two thousand years old. You can kill fairies with iron, for example, and they are weakened with lemon. There are other ways to kill them, but it's hard work. They like to keep to themselves for the most part, away from Earth. They have their own separate universe where they exist by themselves, away from humans or vampires; there are portals to Earth, and some fairies choose to live there instead of in the fairy realm."

"So if they isolate themselves from humans, how am I supposedly descended from one?"

"I'll tell you everything I know. Which, since I was only told it a few minutes ago, is not as much as I could and will know. Bear that in mind."

I nodded.

"This starts back … five hundred years ago, I believe."

"_Five hundred years ago_?"

"Yes. With a fairy named Niall," Eric explained, pronouncing it Nye-all. "I know him, actually, but I haven't seen him in hundreds of years. He's a fairy prince—one very powerful, and very old." He paused, then darkly added, "Older and more powerful than me, in fact."

My eyes widened, but I nodded for him to go on.

"This is what I've pieced together from my prior knowledge about Niall and what Bill told me, but five hundred years ago Niall met a human woman and she gave birth to two twins, two half-fairy twin boys. Fintan and Dermott. Now, I know very little about either, but Fintan somehow managed to find your Gran … Adele. She gave birth to their son, and later their daughter. Two humans who were, unknowingly, quarter-fairy. That makes you an eighth of a fairy."

"Which means Jason is an eighth of a fairy too," I said automatically. "What did Bill say about Jason? Shit, is he after Jason as well? Or was after, or whatever? I've been trying so hard to keep Jason out of this vampire mess, but here he is inadvertently being a huge part of it!" I was working hard to keep my voice steady and at a pitch that wouldn't just be audible to dogs and vampires, but damnit if it wasn't hard.

"Yes, Bill knows about Jason. No, he wasn't after him. Just you, it seems. They don't think he has the essential spark that you do. Of course, they do know that he is part fairy. As I said, fairies are very beautiful—a trait that I definitely know was passed down to you, and I can only assume was passed down to Jason as well. Humans are attracted, even drawn to fairies, which can be applied to Jason and his ways with women. I suppose you've found that people are attracted to you, but they fight it because they think you're crazy?"

I nodded, remembering confused boys too scared to ask me to dances and confused girls too afraid to ask me to play at recess.

"Yes. That's why I think Bill is right, however disgusted I am to admit it."

"Can't you just call or summon or find Niall and ask him if this is all true?"

"Of course. I'm planning on doing that right away. I'll put the right words in the appropriate channels, but as I said I haven't seen him in hundreds of years, and I haven't the slightest idea which realm he's in. But I'll do my best to find him. I swear it," he said fiercely, looking down at me.

"Thank you, Eric," I said, squeezing his knee. He placed a hand over mine and let it stay there, one on top of the other. "So why is it such a big deal that I have fairy blood in me?"

"I think your telepathy is more of a prize for the queen; after all, it's what led her to investigate you in the first place. I can only assume Hadley knows nothing about this, originally at least, and it was Bill or someone else's research that brought them to the conclusion that you are descended from fairies. How, I do not know. The blood is just a bonus, an extra perk for her when she would feed on you."

_When she would feed on you. _" … I need a human moment here," I said, leaning back into his embrace and resting my head on his shoulder. I didn't know if it was what Eric was telling me or what I was thinking about Gran or, hell, if it was even the Fangtasia food, but I was feeling a little faint.

Eric's hands encircled around me, holding me against him. "I think anyone would need a moment, human or partly human or not human at all, given what you've just been told."

I didn't say anything, too focused on closing my eyes and taking slow, even breaths. Eric was quiet too, but I could feel his fingers stroking my hair, like you would do to a small child to calm her down after she ran into your room screaming from a nightmare she just woke up from. I don't know how long we stayed quiet in that position, but it was a long time.

I was damn glad I saved the chocolate mousse from earlier. I needed it. Now.

I started to get up, to pick it up from the side table I had placed it on, but Eric wasn't having any of it. When I explained what I was doing, or trying to do, he got up and brought the dessert to me, and after thanking him I curled back up against him as I savored each spoonful. The whole time Eric was playing with my hair or rubbing up and down my arms or kissing me on the forehead, and between that and the chocolate I melted.

I just started … weeping, I guess, silently weeping, with tears streaming down my face and no hiccups or gasps or breaths coming from my mouth. Just … tears. And lots of them. Over Gran, and what she might have done. Over Eric, and what he had definitely done all for me, all for protecting me, all for keeping me safe. Over Jason, not knowing anything—more than usual. The more I cried, the louder and messier I got. It was not pretty at all.

Eric jumped up and fetched me a leftover unused cloth napkin. When he sat back down on the couch he took the goblet of mousse from my shaking hands and replaced it with the napkin. I tried daintily dabbing my face with it, and then I decided to hell with it and blew my nose in the napkin in a very un-dainty way.

And then I started hysterically laughing about how _this _was what I was breaking down and crying about, over everything that had happened to me these past couple weeks. I had a crazy-ass vampire queen who wanted to enslave me, a creepy vampire detective guy who wanted to kidnap me, a long-lost cousin I thought was dead who caused all of this trouble, a brother who was accused of murder, and a kinda-sorta-maybe? vampire boyfriend … but the thing that got me crying was something I couldn't change or influence or even have a say in, since it happened way before I was born—or even before Gran was born or any Stackhouse was born, if you thought about it.

Life was funny like that, as I was finding out.

So there I was, sobbing and laughing and snorting and hiccupping. And there Eric was, holding me and patting me hesitantly, like he didn't want to break me. I couldn't have that. I wanted to be strong for him, and I wanted to be strong for myself. I had to, or else I'd never be able to function with my life.

To get me out of this funk, I started thinking of all the happy moments I had with Eric. Eric bashing Twilight as we watched the movie together and talked about the books. Eric asking if vampires wore braces. The way his face lit up when he discovered we'd already been on a date before I "had" one with Alcide. What sex with him was like. And then I found myself thinking of all the happy moments I had with non-Amnesiac Eric, like how he listened to me when I tried to help with Taryn, and how he ended up following my advice. How he came to help me again and again. How he never lied to me, and was always honest with me even when he knew it would hurt me. How he looked at me tonight, and the last night, when I changed into my Fangtasia outfits. Him teaching me how to text on my cell phone, and me teaching him WTF.

Eventually I stopped crying, and if Eric felt or saw how that happened he didn't question it. He almost seemed terrified of me crying, which was funny too. But he didn't say anything, just held me close to him.

"Oh dear! I'm sorry I got your clothes all wet and snotty," I said finally, looking at his once-pristine shirt. I pulled back to take in his clothes' appearance, which I wasn't proud of being responsible for.

"Don't cry again," he said hastily. "Just don't start crying again, and I won't mind taking this to the cleaners. I won't even mind getting a whole new shirt."

I smiled weakly. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom and wash my face."

"Sure."

I got up and slowly made my way to the door; Eric rose after I did, and when I looked back he was going over to his desk and turning his laptop on.

I made my way to the bathroom, and thankfully this time Taryn or any other vampire wasn't in there feeding on a human. I didn't think I'd be able to handle that right now. Thankfully, I peed in peace, and as I washed my hands I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

This was what happened to you when the person you most loved and admired and looked up to wasn't quite the hero you always thought she was. Here was the face of the daughter of a secretly illegitimate bastard son. This is what you looked like if you had some fairy blood in you.

I shook my head. I wasn't going to bring myself down by thinking like that. This was the face of a strong woman, someone who was going to make lemonade and lemon poppy seed muffins and lemon pie and lemon tart with all the lemons God was giving her. Yes. Hell yes.

I'd had my time to mope and cry, but there was only so much moping and crying to be done before you had to move on. And I was at that point now. It wasn't definite that Gran had an affair. It wasn't definite that I was part-fairy. And even if it was, then I'd deal with it as best as I could. But I wasn't going to worry myself sick in the meantime.

I made my way back to Eric's office, where he was typing on his laptop with one hand and typing on his cell phone with the other, while all the while speaking in another language, not the one he used with Pam, on his Bluetooth. I was suddenly hit with the visual of a multi-tasking octopus with a Viking hat on his head.

He stopped everything when he saw I'd walked in, reaching up to click a button on his Bluetooth head set. "Better?" he asked, still sitting down.

I walked over and, without even thinking, sat down in his lap. I threw my arms around my neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Eric. Thank you for everything. And especially thank you for being honest with me."

Eric nodded, his eyes meeting my eyes before they dropped down to my lips. It wasn't until I slowly leaned forward and softly pressed my lips against his that he acted; he had been waiting for me to make the move, I supposed. Whatever the reason, I was kissing Eric and he was kissing me back and that was all I cared about in that moment. And the moment after that moment. And the moment after that moment too.

Eric had been there for me tonight, like he'd always been there for me even when he didn't really know me. He was quickly becoming the person I could trust the most, the person I could count on, the person who had my back—_Eric_, who didn't want anything to do with me after he got his memories back! And now here he was … here we were. How different everything was—or how normal everything was, like we were back to Video Sookie and Video Eric.

But like all good things, that moment came to an end when I felt a vibration—many vibrations—under my butt. His phone was vibrating.

"Is that a phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" I teased, pulling back from the kiss and starting to get off his lap so he could answer his phone.

"Both," he answered gruffly, arms going around my waist so I wasn't going anywhere. He resumed where we had left off, but now the kisses were more passion than comfort, more rough than controlled.

And then the door swung open, and I jumped at the sudden noise. Eric broke off the kiss and looked past my shoulder to see Pam strolling in.

"Pam, I—" he thundered, and then he stopped when he saw the nervous expression on her face, and how Pam, _Pam_, was wringing her hands. "What is it?"

"It's not good, Eric. I was going over the finances like you asked, and I keep making the same error over and over again. Calculator, graphing calculator, head-calculator … I keep getting the same thing. I need you … I need you to check it. _Please_."

Eric exchanged a look with me, to show we were both shocked by the humbleness and seriousness Pam was showing. I got off his lap and Eric stood up.

"Very well," he said to Pam, and then he looked back at me. "This should only take a minute. I'll come right back."

"Okay. Good luck with whatever it is you'll be doing," I said. He smiled and brought a hand up to caress my cheek with his thumb. Then he turned and followed Pam out the door, turning around to look back at me before he closed it shut.

Not knowing what else to do, I walked over to the couch and lied down on it with my head on one plush armrest and the tips of my toes skimming the other. I took my shoes off and grabbed a fashion magazine Pam had left behind, choosing to look at all of the models and be envious of the carefree lives they probably lived, instead of being envious of the size of their thighs.

I blew through all of the English magazines, and started on the foreign ones. I started playing little games with myself, to help pass the time. Which did I like more: the leather boots on page thirty-four, or the suede booties on page thirty-six? Would I rather have my hair done up in the bun the redheaded model on page fifty had, or did I prefer the fishtail braid the brunette on page fifty-three was sporting?

But then that became boring, and I put all the magazines on the table where Pam had originally put them.

_Um … now what?_

I spied Eric's iPod on a nearby shelf, and I picked it up. Surely he wouldn't mind if I listened to it while I waited for him to come back? I looked it over; he had a 300 GB iPod. I didn't even know they made those. But it seemed like Eric needed all the space he could get. He had almost every artist or musician on that iPod, it seemed—from country to classic rock to comedy, he had it all. And then some—I only knew about one in five musicians.

Scrolling through his playlists, I wandered back over to the couch and lied down on it, the same position I had been when I was reading all those magazines. Under Eric's "recently added" playlist was some Swedish name I'd never heard of, much less be able to pronounce. I pressed play, and was greeted with the soothing sounds of choral chanting in some language I didn't understand. And oddly enough, it was very comforting—so comforting, in fact, that I found myself drifting off to sleep. I tried to fight it, so I'd be awake when Eric came back, but it wasn't enough. Between the odd hours I was keeping and the emotionally draining and exhausting night I'd had, I was more than ready to fall asleep. And fall asleep I did.

I remembered feeling a cool hand on my forehead, and the feeling of someone taking the headphones out of my ears. I felt someone putting a light blanket over me and tucking in the sides, like Gran used to do. But other than that, I was out.

When I finally woke up for real, Eric was at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair with his feet on the table. He'd changed into jeans and a black v-neck tee, and his feet were bare. His eyes were closed as he talked in some language to whoever was on the phone with him; he was pinching the bridge of his nose and looking very frustrated. I watched him sigh and I heard his voice turn deadly quiet, but he didn't notice this until he hung up the phone and opened his eyes.

"Everything okay?" I asked, turning on my side so I was still lying down but I was facing him.

"Depends on your definition of 'okay,'" Eric said darkly.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Not very likely. Niall is a hard man to get a hold of; the last time I saw him cell phones and computers and even the printing press weren't invented. But I've alerted the proper channels and left messages to people or at places that might help me get in touch with him. All I have to do it wait, now. And though I've been around for a thousand years, I'm not feeling very patient right now."

"Oh," I said, stumped on finding a better response. "What was the thing with Pam?"

"According to our bookkeeping, we're short forty-five thousand dollars. Pam, Longshadow, and I went through all our records and books and triple-checked everything, but we're still at a loss as to how or why that happened. Personally, I think it's embezzlement, but I have no idea who would be stupid enough to steal from me."

"If you want me to read through all the employees or the accountant guy, I'd be more than happy to do it," I offered.

Eric nodded. "That would be very much appreciated. I left a message with Bruce, our accountant. I'll instruct my day man to tell him to come to Fangtasia tomorrow night. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah. But, I'm working from one to nine tomorrow night. I can come over to Fangtasia after that, though."

"How does eleven sound? I'd imagine you'd want to go home and shower and change before coming over."

That Eric, always thinking. "Sounds good."

He smiled. "Excellent." After a beat he added, "I saw you found my iPod."

"Uh, yeah. Sorry."

He waved his hand. "That wasn't why I brought it up. I saw you also found _IIIII_. What did you think?"

I loved it whenever Eric asked my opinion, or listened to it. "I kinda liked it, actually. It was very soothing."

"It is, isn't it? It's recordings of an old Norse poem translated into Old Swedish. The series is called 'Sancto Eric' and it's about the life of a fabled Swedish king, named Eric."

"But not you-Eric?"

Eric smiled. "No. I've never been a king of anything. It's just something from my younger days."

"Ohhhh. Cool."

"Very." He got out of his chair and walked over to me; I sat up on the couch, and he sat down next to me. "It's about two hours before dawn."

"Oh."

"I hate to have to do this, but between waiting to hear back from Niall and going over our books to find the forty-five thousand dollars and catching up on the paperwork and emails I've missed over the past couple of days, I should stay at Fangtasia for the rest of the night."

"Oh, that's fine! Don't worry about it. You've done more than enough for me."

"Will you be okay to drive? I can arrange for you to be driven back, if you like."

"No, I'm fine. Really."

"Good."

I stretched my arms and yawned. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Um, so I guess I'll leave you to it, then?"

"I'll see you out," he said, standing up. I rose too, and started walking over to where the secret door was, but Eric reached out and grabbed my hand, stopping me from continuing.

"We can go out the front entrance and walk around," he said. He didn't need to say that way we'd have more time together; we both knew it.

"Sure."

He didn't let go of my hand the whole time, opening doors with just his free one. We chatted about his musical tapes as we walked down the corridor, through the-empty bar, and through the empty parking lot.

"So this is it," I said as we approached my car. I let go of his hand and turned to face him. "I know I've said this before, but thank you so much for everything tonight—talking to Bill, telling me what happened between you, holding me, helping me, trying to call Niall. I really appreciate it. And I'm sorry again about your shirt."

"Don't worry about it." He paused, and then shook his head. "Everything you've had thrown at you tonight, and you're sorry about my shirt. Incredible."

He smiled gently at me, and I returned it gratefully. "I, um, really should get going now."

"Of course. Good day, Sookie." He bent down and laid the faintest, softest of kisses on me. Stroking my cheek, he murmured, "Until tonight, then."

"Right." I smiled and forced myself to open the driver's door of my car. I got in and turned the car on and put my seatbelt on, with Eric watching from the side the whole time. Once I was all set, I waved at him and started to pull out of my space. He was still standing there watching me when I turned the corner.

...

**P.S. Little fun fact: when I first wrote the line "I buried my face in the crook of his neck" (what Sookie does right before Eric drops the bomb) I was thinking about how Eric would react at the same time, and I accidentallly typed "I buried my face in the cock of his neck." It made me go BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH a lot :P**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: ****All my love to chiisai-kitty.**

…

I had a hell of a time falling asleep last night. I think it was a mixture of the nap I had taken in Eric's office, and the news I had gotten hit with that I just couldn't stop running through my mind. There were at least four separate occasions last night where I almost dragged myself out of bed to go dig around in the attic or Gran's old room for old diaries or pictures of hers, but instead I promised myself to do that the next day, as a kind of incentive for me to go to sleep. It worked, even though it took a while. It felt like I had just been able to drift off to sleep when I was woken up by the telephone ringing.

"Yes?" I asked once I was downstairs (almost slipped down the stairs, I was so groggy) and could answer the phone.

"Sookie?"

"Yep?"

"It's Sam. Hi. Uh, can you do me a favor?"

"What?" I was due to work today anyway, although at a much later time, and I had a hunch about what Sam would ask, and I didn't really like it.

"Go by Dawn's place, and see what she's up to, would you? She won't answer her phone and she's supposed to be here by now. And since you're my most trusted waitress and you live the closest to her, I just figured …" he said, trailing off at the end. He paused. "It's just 'cause it's a shipment day, y'know?"

Ugh. Shipment day. At the end of every month we'd get a huge supply of all the products and supplies we needed that didn't have expiration dates, like ketchup and napkins. Each shipment day, a waitress was supposed to come in early and help Sam unpack; there was a rotation of who would do it each month, and it was supposed to be Dawn's turn today. Shipment day wasn't the best day to work, but Sam did raise the pay grade on those days, so it wasn't too, too bad.

"Huh," I said in a tone of voice that would have earned me a scolding from Gran if she was still alive.

"Yeah. I mean, I'd do it m'self if I could, but the delivery truck just pulled up and I got to tell these guys where to put stuff."

I sighed. "I'll be there in twenty."

After thanking me profusely and swearing to give me a bonus, Sam hung up the phone and I went upstairs and took the world's fastest shower. I grabbed an apple to eat during the red light stops, and I drove myself over to Dawn's looking sloppy as ever in sweatpants and an old football tee of Jason's. In retrospect, wearing that shirt was kinda like twisting the knife, but I didn't even realize it until I was halfway to her place, and I kinda had bigger problems in my life right now anyways. She'd just have to deal with it.

I pulled up to where Dawn lived, in an apartment duplex located between my house and Merlotte's. I easily spotted her car, a little green one with a dent on the bumper from the time she backed into the garden gnome on Arlene's front lawn when Arlene hosted Sam's surprise birthday party in her house. It was in the driveway of one of the better-kept houses, one with a little hanging basket dangling from the front porch, and I pulled in behind the car, too lazy to try and parallel park on the street.

Yawning, I walked over to the front door and rang the door bell. I waited the amount of time you usually wait when ringing someone's door bell or knocking on their door, and then I tried again. No answer.

I banged on the door harder and yelled, "Dawn, it's Sookie Stackhouse!" No reply. I leaned over to try and peek in her windows, but her blinds were drawn. "It's about Jason!" I added, hoping that would do the trick. It didn't.

I started getting this little feeling, that pesky one you get when you know something isn't normal but you don't know what just yet. "Alright, I'm coming in, but don't say I didn't warn you!" I hollered, my hand reaching for the door. I almost fell forward when I tried to open it and it easily swung to let me in. I didn't expect it to be open, and I thought I'd have to check under her doormat or in the sides of her hanging plant for a key, but lo and behold, the door opened easily. That should have set something off in my head, since even though Bon Temps is a ridiculously small town everyone was locking their doors after the murder of Maudette—and talking about it at Merlotte's, so Dawn might have heard about it and tried it out like I did—but I didn't realize it.

I cautiously stepped into her apartment, which was much, much cleaner than I would have given Dawn credit for, I had to admit. Though her furniture looked a little worn, it was clear she was a true believer in the old motto that a happy home is a clean home.

"Daaaaaaaawn?" I asked in a singsong voice, drawing out the syllables so my voice would be in the air longer and there'd be a better chance of her waking up. "Where are youuuuuuuuu?"

Having made my way through the living room/dining room area and the kitchen, I started walking down the hallway to where there were two doors, both of them closed. I assumed one was the bathroom and one was the bedroom, but I had no idea which was which. I opened the door on my left, but it was just the bathroom. And Dawn wasn't in there like I _really_ wanted her to be.

I knocked on door number two, just to be safe. And then I opened the door and walked in and quickly saw there had been no need to knock.

Dawn was still in her bed, lying on her back. The sheets were rumpled all around her naked body, and there were a couple of flies buzzing around her body. One of them landed on her face, right next to her still-open eye.

I screamed. Especially when all of a sudden I heard footsteps behind me and I swiveled around to find a very shocked-looking Jason standing behind me in the doorway, a random assortment of wildflowers now dropped on the floor from where he'd been holding them in his hands.

"The fuck?" he gasped, unable to look away from the corpse of his on-off girlfriend.

"Oh my God! Jason! What are you doing here?"

"We had a little spat yesterday and I swung by here before work to try and make it up to her! Holy shit!" he said, still not looking at me. Arms outstretched, he took a step forward like he was going to walk over to the bed and I reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"You can't walk over there! This is, like, a crime scene! You need to go call the police, not get one last look at your dead girlfriend's titties!" I screeched.

He finally looked at me then, and he whipped out his cell phone and pressed three buttons you never want to press, in that order. Then Jason stepped out of the bedroom and I could hear him saying the police needed to "get their asses down to Dawn Green's apartment ASAP."

I had to force myself not to go over and pull up Dawn's sheets; even though she had been a promiscuous girl with no qualms about wearing short shorts or tight tank tops, I thought it was indecent to have her lying naked like she was. But if I did do that, then I'd be a nasty little hypocrite, and I didn't want to be that person.

I slowly backed out of her bedroom and walked out on the porch; once Jason finished making the call, he sat down next to me on the steps.

He opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped when there was a loud bang and we both looked over to see Dawn's next-door neighbor, some old woman I vaguely remembered from church, step out onto her porch, her screen door banging against her slightly wore-down apartment.

"You! What are _you_ doing here?" she cried accusingly, pointing at Jason with one hand while clutching her bathrobe together with the other hand. "I heard yous, last night! I heard you two fighting, and I heard her fire the gun at you twice! You called her a bad name, didn't you, boy?"

I whipped my head to look at Jason. "She fired a _gun_ at you?"

"Twice," the old lady added unnecessarily. "And he called her a bad name!"

I fixed her a stern look that said, _'Butt out, lady!'_ and said to Jason, "She fired a gun at you and you show up the next morning with a scraggly bunch of flowers as an apology! Jason, honey, when someone tries to shoot you, then you should stay the hell away from them!"

He didn't get a chance to respond, because just then a police car, with the siren and lights on and everything, pulled up and parked on the street; I could see it was Andy and Sheriff Dearborn. They both dipped their heads when they approached us, and Sheriff Dearborn walked inside as Andy stopped in front of us and told us not to go anywhere. He went inside with Sherriff Dearborn, and then just Andy came back out to talk to us.

He was going to say something until Mrs. Arlene-in-forty-years next door "yoo-hooed" him over, so she could loudly and excitedly recount how late last night she'd heard gunshots and poked her head out the door to see Dawn holding a gun and throwing Jason's clothes at him as he ran out of her apartment.

Jason's fists were clenched the whole time, and I was ready to murder that gossipy old biddy. But we just sat there, biding our time, until all of a sudden Sam's old-fashioned Jeep came into view, and he started walking over to us.

"What's going on, Sookie? I didn't hear from you or Dawn and I started to get nervous … uh, what's this cop car doing here?" Sam cried, approaching us.

Andy excused himself and walked back over to us. "Ah, Sam Merlotte. We were just going to give you a call."

"You were?" Sam asked dumbly, looking back at me with a question in his eyes.

"Dawn Green's dead."

Sam couldn't have looked more shocked than if Andy hit him over the head with a two-by-four. "What?"

"And seeing as you're her landlord, and also her boss, we have a couple questions to ask you in private, if you'd just come with me." Andy put an arm around Sam's shoulder and took him to stand over by my car.

"Did you know Sam was Dawn's landlord?" I asked Jason. He didn't say anything.

I took a deep breath and peeked into his brain. He was acting so serious and quiet and so un-Jason like I was getting really worried. But when I read his mind, he wasn't thinking about killing Dawn; he was thinking about the last time he saw her, when she really was throwing his clothes at him like the old lady said. He'd gone home, gotten himself drunk, and woke up this morning ready to make nice, or at least try to.

I put an arm around his shoulder. "You didn't kill her, did you?"

"Course not!" he said mournfully, staring at the steps in front of him. He was telling the truth, and I felt terrible that I ever doubted him. But I was certain that would never happen again.

I watched Sam and Andy talk for a little more, and then Sam walked back over to where we were. "He wants to talk to you, Jason," he said, stopping in front of the steps. He toed the grass with his cowboy boot and looked up at us. "Now."

Jason got up without saying a word, but he did walk over to where Andy was waiting for him.

Sam took his spot. "I am so sorry you had to see that, Sookie. I should have been the one. I should have come myself."

"You didn't know any better," I said, patting his arm. "We all make mistakes."

"Look like Dawn sure made one, whatever it was," Sam said darkly, not even sounding like himself.

I privately agreed, but I didn't comment on it. Instead, I said, "Listen, Sam, I can take her shift today, if you need someone to work." Though every fiber of my body was telling me to go home and sleep and wallow, I knew if I did that I'd drive myself crazy thinking about Gran and how Eric found out about that information. Besides, I also knew Sam was going to have to ask that, since he was out a waitress, and I wanted to spare him that guilt he would inevitably feel. "It's no problem. I've had a couple days off now, so it's just paying my due." I shrugged my shoulders, hoping that would seal the deal.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "That would help out so much, cher. Thank you."

"Not a problem."

Another truck came over, one from Mike Spencer's funeral home. He and his partner were decked out in all black, from their one-suits to their hats. Mike Spencer cheerfully waved at me and asked how I was, like we were in the parking lot of the grocery store and had a coincidental meeting, not like I found a dead body that he was here to pick up.

I didn't want my own thoughts any more. I was done with them. Closing my eyes, I picked one line of thought out of the crowd and stuck to it.

Mike Spencer, that damn Mike Spencer, was apparently in Dawn's bedroom, preparing her naked body. He was thinking that she really had natural breasts, and he always thought they were too perfectly rounded and perky for them to be God's gift to man. He was upset about how Dawn turned him down that one time a couple months ago, because then he would have been able to see her breasts earlier. Fucking pervert.

Disgusted, I switched channels. Sheriff Dearborn. He was thinking it was unusual that Dawn had bite marks on the inside of her thigh, like Maudette. He was also thinking it was unusual that in both cases Jason was involved, and he was glad my Gran wasn't alive to see this.

Sam's brain was too hazy; I could make out feelings instead of actual thoughts, but Sam was feeling guilty about something—probably about making me come here—and he was sad. About what, I didn't know.

Andy was upset because he thought Jason wasn't giving him any respect—Jason always called him "Andy" instead of "Detective Bellefleur."

Jason was upset because he thought Andy wasn't giving him any respect—Andy was treating him like he was convicted of the crimes, and he didn't like it one inch. He was an all-state quarterback, damnit!

I eventually came to the conclusion that I'd rather have my own thoughts over these any day. It wasn't a hard decision to make.

Another cop car pulled up, and this time it was Kenya who walked up. Kenya was a big black woman, at least 5'11" and very stocky. She was a very no-nonsense woman even when she wasn't on duty, and she looked it too. Kenya nodded at Andy and Jason, nodded at us, and then walked into Dawn's apartment, where I was sure she nodded at Sheriff Dearborn, Mike Spencer, and probably even Dawn's corpse.

Jason started walking away from Andy, heading my way, and you didn't need to be a mind-reader to know I was next in Andy Bellefleur's little interrogation game. Sam knew it too, and he affectionately patted my leg before I stood up and went over to where Andy was standing, scribbling something in a small notebook.

"Hi, Detective Bellefleur," I said, smiling up at him. He stopped writing and looked at me, pleased that someone was finally giving him a little goddamn respect in this town. The Bellefleurs had been in Bon Temps as long as there'd been a Bon Temps, and even though they had piles of money in the past, the family was still very proud and as well-to-do as you can be living in a town of two thousand people. Everyone knew the Bellefleurs, and everyone knew Andy and his sister, Portia—she was a lawyer, a couple years older than me.

"Miss Stackhouse," he said politely, "I just want to ask you a couple more questions, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. How can I help?"

"First off … when was the last time you saw Dawn Green?"

I had to think about it. "Um … couple days ago? I've had a couple days off from work. Hold on, lemme think."

He nodded his head in that way when people try to pretend like they care. I ignored it and tried to concentrate. I'd been a little busy since then.

"It was that night that the vampires came into Merlotte's … the night Maudette was murdered. Dawn was working with me."

"I see. And did you talk to her then?"

I tried to remember. That was such a silly question. "Of course. I don't remember anything specific, but I'm sure I did. You know_, hello, goodbye, can you please bring the water to table four?_ Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess, or else I probably would have remembered it."

"Were you close to her?"

"No, not really."

"So why did you come here today?"

I explained all about Sam's phone call this morning. Andy seemed to be writing so fast, it was like he was trying to start a fire.

"Did Mr. Merlotte tell you why he didn't want to come here himself?"

"Yeah, there was a supply truck that needed to be unloaded, and he needed to be there to help out and show where everything's supposed to go. And since I live the closest, he asked me to help."

"Do you think Mr. Merlotte had any relationship with Dawn?"

"Well, yeah, he was her boss. Landlord too, I guess."

Andy looked annoyed. "No, outside of work."

"Nope."

He skeptically raised an eyebrow. "You sound pretty positive."

"I am," I replied, jutting my chin out.

He paused. "Do you have a relationship with Sam?"

"Just the kind of friendly relationship you get when you work with someone for five years."

"Then how are you so sure?"

Good question. Because I would have "heard" about it, simple as that. But I probably should keep that to myself.

"Uh, well, Sam keeps everything real professional at the bar," I said. It sounded lame, even to me. But Andy seemed to buy it, since he stopped writing in his notebook and looked up at me.

"Did you know anything about Dawn's personal life?"

"Bits and pieces. Mostly because she had a thing with Jason. But that's really it."

"What do you mean, '_a thing with Jason?'"_

I awkwardly explained their on-off, love-hate relationship, and how there had been a little incident yesterday before the gun shots, where Dawn left Jason tied to her bed. I didn't tell Andy about them breaking up over Eric; that was just one time they broke up, anyways. And he'd already pieced together the connection between Jason, vampire bites on the thighs, and two dead women. I didn't need to encourage him.

"So other than that, you two never really, ah, _hung out_, as they say? You weren't BFFs?"

Stifling the urge to snort at hearing a grown man, and a detective at that, say the phrase "BFFs," I shook my head. "Nope. We weren't really that close."

"Why not?"

"Probably because we have absolutely nothing in common," I said, giving more sass than was necessary but not being apologetic about it.

"How?"

I couldn't help it—I sighed heavily, blowing my lips out in exasperation. If we didn't have anything in common, how could I give him an example? I just wanted to be like, _seriously_?

"Okay," I said slowly, after some seconds had passed and my crankiness level decreased. "Dawn had a real active social life, and she liked to be with men. She wasn't so crazy about spending time with women. Her family is from Monroe, so she didn't have family ties here. She drank, and I don't. I read a lot, and she didn't. That enough?"

Andy Bellefleur scanned my face to see if I was giving him attitude. He must have been reassured by what he saw. He scratched the back of his neck as he replied, "So, you two didn't ever see each other after working hours?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It was hard. "That's correct."

"So you said the last time you saw Dawn was when those vampers came into Merlotte's?"

I nodded.

"She talk to them?"

"No." Definitely not.

"You talk to them?"

_And then some_. "Yes."

"About what?"

_Motherfucker_.

"Um, I asked them questions ... stuff like you'd ask the first vampire you meet." I shrugged, like it wasn't the big deal that it totally was. I wasn't lying, either! I was just being selective in telling the truth. I knew for a fact that what I talked about with Bill, and later Eric and Pam, would be no help whatsoever in this investigation.

Andy felt so uncomfortable talking about the vampires he thankfully didn't push to see what exactly we talked about. Instead, he said, "Remember their names? Don't forget you're talking to the physical embodiment of the law."

If Andy Bellefleur was the physical embodiment of the law, we were all screwed.

I tried to figure out the best possible strategy. "Um … let me see … Eric was the tall blonde one, Bill was the other guy, and Pam was the girl."

Just then Sam strolled over and stood next to me, and placed a hand on my shoulder. "'Scuse me, Andy, but I just need to get my cell phone from my car and call Terry to see if he can watch Merlotte's while I'm here, since no one's there right now and I can't remember if I locked up? You mind, Andy?"

He was looking straight ahead at Andy, but I clearly heard him think, _'Sookie, can you hear me? Um … I don't know, pat my back if you can.'_

I reached around him and patted his back.

He thought, _'Good. Okay, now, Andy asked about the vampires too. I just said that we met them that night, we had no idea why they were at Merlotte's, and they told us their names. I only said we knew their first names, and I hadn't seen them since then. I didn't say anything for you. Okay?'_

I breathed a sigh of relief. So my flimsy story was sticking. _Thank fuck. _I patted his back again.

"Sure, Sam. Just come back," Andy said finally, looking skeptically back and forth between us.

Sam smiled easily and walked away. I looked back at Andy and sweetly asked, "Where were we?"

"Did those vampires know Dawn?"

"Don't know."

"Did those vampires talk to Dawn, or talk about Dawn?"

"Sorry, but I don't know that either."

"Ever see any of them again?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"Which one?"

"All of them."

Andy had to wait a while to compose his features. "Where?"

"Well, I went to that vampire bar in Fangtasia. I saw them there too, last night, and the night after Maudette was killed."

"That it?"

I sucked in my breath. I was going to be as honest as I could about this, since I was cutting the corners on some other spots. "Um. I was at Fangtasia last night. The night before. And the night before that. Some other times too."

Andy managed to keep his face composed, but he was wondering what the hell a nice girl like me was doing hanging with those vampires right now, and what my Gran would say if she was alive. He was unhappy I didn't have any fangmarks … on my neck, anyway. He was trying to figure out a way for me to show him the inside of my thigh that wouldn't get his badge taken away from him, but he wasn't being so successful with coming up with ideas. He was writing things down a mile a minute, but his thoughts were consistent. He thought I was a fangbanger—apparently I'd have to be a pretty good one to still be alive.

"Any of 'em bite you?" he asked gruffly, not even giving me the decency to look me in the eyes.

"I don't see how that is related to the death of Dawn Green," I said fiercely, even going so far as to cross my arms for extra badass power.

"She died with a vampire bite on her body, just like Maudette. I think it's very much related to the death of Dawn Green," Andy said in a smart-aleck tone.

"Fine. Eric's bitten me before. And you know what? It was _fantastic,_" I sneered.

Hah, _now_ he looked at me. He shifted his weight. "So you were with him last night?"

"Yep."

"For how long?"

"From sunset to a little before sunrise," I said frankly, marveling at how I could make a grown man blush.

Andy coughed. "Very well. Did you see the other vampires last night?"

"Pam was there. Bill too. But, uh, we didn't spend a lot of time with them, if you know what I mean."

Andy had on a facial expression he might make if he ever had to wear a thong. "They know Dawn or Maudette?"

"You can ask them; I'm sure they'd be able to answer that question better than I could," I said, raising an eyebrow as I wondered if he'd man up and take the bait.

"You got a contact number?"

"I would try going over to Fangtasia," I said honestly. "Sometime at night would probably work best."

He scribbled some more. "So you were with the vampires both nights that a woman in Bon Temps was murdered?"

"Yeah."

"The whole night?"

"Yeah."

He was unhappy that I was providing an alibi for "them damn vampers"; he really wanted to pin it on them and close all the cases. "Miss Stackhouse, we need to talk to you more at the station house. This is going to take awhile, here, as you can see. Can you come in a couple hours?"

That sounded as appealing as getting teeth pulled without getting any anesthesia. I'd had enough of being mind-bashed by Andy, and the fact that he'd be pulling me in to talk about information I already knew would be useless to this investigation made it that much sweeter.

I looked at my wristwatch. "Sam needs me to take over Dawn's shift."

"You know, Miss Stackhouse, this really takes precedence over working at a bar," he said archly.

Okay, now I was pissed off. Not because he thought murder investigations were more important than getting to work on time; I agreed with him, there. It was his unspoken prejudice against my particular job. He thought there was no wonder why I was hanging around with vampires, when all I did was wait on tables for a living. He thought the same about Dawn, and even worse about Maudette since she just worked at a gas station.

He was wondering if I'd be the next dead body he'd see. And he was still wondering how he could get me to show him the inside of my thigh, the pig.

"You may not think my job amounts to much, but it's one I'm good at, and I like it. I am as worthy of respect as your sister, the lawyer, Andy Bellefleur, and don't you forget it. I am _not _stupid, and I am _not_ a slut. I've only had sex with one person, _ever_, and I'm not ashamed of it no matter how much you think I ought to be!" I exclaimed, working hard to keep the tears in my eyes at bay. Then again, maybe it would work in my favor if I cried? Whatever. I was done with it. And I was just too damn proud.

I was perversely pleased to see a ruddy complexion overtake the detective's pudgy face. "I apologize," Andy said stiffly.

I nodded as regally as I could, without bothering to hide my smirk. Let him see it, for all I care. "When you're ready for me, you come to the bar. We can talk in the storeroom or Sam's office."

He nodded, and I took that as my leave to walk back to Jason and Sam, who had finished calling Terry and resumed his spot on the steps. He stood up as soon as I came over.

"Ready, cher?" he asked kindly, stuffing his hands in his jeans pocket.

"Yep. Jason, you okay?" I said, staring at my brother. He was looking off in the distance, and I don't think he even saw me, much less heard me. I kicked his shoe.

"Whaa? Yeah. I'm good," he said.

The screen door opened, and Mike Spencer and his partner came out of it, holding a bunch of plastic that was protecting Dawn's body. Jason jumped up to get out of their way, and I hugged him long and hard, turning him around so he was facing Dawn' s apartment and didn't have to see her corpse being carried … although there was nothing I could do about the loud thud that sounded out when Mike accidentally hit what I assumed was Dawn's head on the door of the van when trying to load her body in the back of it.

Finally, I released him, kissing him on the forehead, and then followed Sam over to Merlotte's.

The bar was buzzing when I got there. Terry Bellefleur, Andy's second cousin if I recalled correctly, had showed up to watch the bar while Sam talked to the police at Dawn's place, and he was struggling a little. I quickly changed into a spare waitressing uniform and started waiting on tables.

Both Terry and Lafayette asked me if it was true about Dawn, and I confirmed it. Then everyone else started asking me about what I saw and what I heard, and soon I was getting tipped for telling information. It was sickening to see all these human vultures gathered in one spot, so I shut up after the third time Mrs. Fortenberry asked me to describe how I found Dawn's body and just went on doing my job. If Sam had a problem with the firm, _polite _way I kept declining to reveal 'special witness stuff' he didn't say anything to me … probably because he was getting hounded as much as I was, and seemed equally upset about it.

Then someone came rushing in saying that Jason was taken down to the police station in the back of the squad car, and I almost lost it, the way everyone was gossiping about it and giving me strange looks. Rene Lenier was the only nice one; he came over and gave me a big hug once he'd heard and seen how today was affecting me. I was surprised—and I had to admit, a closely-watching Arlene was too—since Rene and I had really only been acquaintances, but he told me I reminded him of his little sister and he could only hope that if she looked as sad as I did right now someone would comfort her.

Andy never did come around to talk to me … not that I was complaining. Seemed he'd talked to everyone but me, the way people knew all the intimate vampire details about me and had no trouble being assholes and loudly describing how wrong and evil vampires were. Once I heard Mrs. Fortenberry start denouncing the Count from _Sesame _Street, I was done.

I was sick and tired of what everyone was saying and thinking, especially when what they were saying or thinking was about me, and it wasn't very nice. I was worried about Jason, not just because he was hauled to the police station for the second time, but also because he was really close to Dawn, even if he didn't want to admit it. All these women kept dying around him, and even though it wasn't his fault, he still had to deal with it.

I wanted Eric. He would know how to handle this situation, I just knew it. Unfortunately he was completely dead to the world at the moment, and would be for quite some time. I'd just have to keep my chin up and my mind closed and just suck it up for a couple more hours until I could be with Eric away from all this shit. In fact, it was the thought of being with him at Fangtasia while I read his employees that kept me going.

Sam came out and brought me to his office and let me vent for twenty minutes, and he offered to let me off, but I knew there was no way that was possible, no matter how many times he tried to talk me into leaving. I finally convinced him that I'd put all my shields up and just focus on delivering the food and not making small talk, and he would make sure at the end of the day that I would get the same amount of tip money that I usually would on a normal day when I would actually interact with the customers.

I had more than enough shit on my plate. Sam got in touch with an on-call waitress from Monroe, and as cute and smiley as she was, she just wasn't that good at waitressing. Say what you want about Dawn, but you better also say she was a damn good waitress.

Around seven or so, Sam came and got me. "Phone for you." He lowered his voice. "It's _Eric_. Use the one in my office." He coughed, and spoke again at a normal level. "I'll take care of your tables. And Sookie, take as long as you need to."

I grinned and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for being such a good friend." I ran off to his office, closing the door in place behind me, and picked up the phone from where it was set on his desk.

"Eric?" I asked, sitting down in Sam's comfy desk chair. I'd been running around in circles for at least six hours, and I was pooped out.

"It seems you've had quite the day, dear one," he said. I grinned like a maniac upon hearing 'dear one.' That was new. It wasn't "lover," but it was something else. Maybe even something more.

"How'd you know?"

"For starters, I felt your fear earlier this morning. It was enough to rouse me out of my daytime slumber, if only for a few helpless seconds. But the shifter assures me it was nothing. Was it?"

I explained everything that had happened at Dawn's house—including Andy's questioning and why I panicked. There was a lot to tell, but Eric was very patient, saying "Go on," or "Good," at the right spots.

When I finished he waited a couple seconds before he replied, "So that's why a detective from Bon Temps came into Fangtasia about forty-five minutes ago, wanting to talk to a Pam and a Bill and an Eric."

"Shit." I leaned back in my chair and covered my face with one hand.

"It's not that bad. We glamoured him into telling us everything he knew. We also glamoured him into telling who else he shared this vampire information with, which unfortunately is the entire police department of Bon Temps, and therefore the entire population of Bon Temps."

"Double shit."

"We convinced him that if either of the two women were truly killed by vampires, they would have been devoid of blood. We glamoured it into him too, just in case. He's going to relay that fact to the police department when he gets back; everyone there is interested to know how his questioning went." He sighed. "Unfortunately, there are too many witnesses who have seen Pam, Bill, and myself at Merlotte's, so we had to keep our relationship with you known … mine in particular. Especially the nights the two women were murdered; you're our alibi for those, for everyone. Even Bill." He didn't sound too pleased about that.

"That's fine," I said. "Did you tell Bill this?"

"I called and spoke to him on the phone; he's residing at the queen's palace."

"Okay." I said. After a moment or two I added, "Eric, I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that trouble with Andy. I'm sorry I caused all that trouble too."

"You did as best as you could, which was pretty good, considering. It's been taken care of." He paused and carefully said, "He did seem particularly convinced your brother murdered both women."

"Jason didn't. I read him, Eric, and he's innocent."

"Andy thinks that now, too. He's going to fight for Jason, and always take his side from now on. We had him call a Kenya person and convince her to release Jason from questioning, so he's all clear. Now, and hopefully for good. "

I smiled a big smile. "Thank you, Eric." That was such a relief. One less thing to worry about … for now.

"It's all been taken care of. By the way, I spoke with Liam. He confirmed what we already knew, that he didn't kill Maudette."

"Oh, thanks for that too," I said.

"Sookie, I didn't call you tonight to hear how you sound when you apologize or thank me," Eric said, sounding exasperated.

I almost apologized, but I caught myself at the nick of time and ended up saying, "Okay."

Eric paused. "And I don't like that there's been two murders in Bon Temps, and that both of them were women with known sexual histories with vampires."

"Uh, yeah, I don't either," I replied, not knowing where he was going.

"Especially when you are a woman in Bon Temps with a now-known sexual history with a vampire."

"Yeah." Seriously, what was he getting at?

He waited, and right when I was about to say something just to break the silence he dismissively said, "We'll talk about it later. You're off at nine, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"See if you can get off sooner."

I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't see me. His vampire vision wasn't _that_ good. "I really wish I could, Eric, but it's swamped tonight. Not much happens in Bon Temps, but when something actually does, everyone comes to Merlotte's to gossip about it. It's been nonstop busy since eleven this morning."

"Fine. I'll send some waitresses over from Fangtasia, and you can get off work. How many would be sufficent?"

I paused to think about it. "Um … three or four should do the trick. Let me go ask Sam. Do you mind holding?"

"Not at all. Make sure he knows you're getting off in exchange."

I found Sam and quietly told him what Eric said. He agreed right away and went back to delivering baskets and plates to my tables.

"Still there?" I asked, picking up the phone again.

"Always. What did the shifter say?" Eric said comfortably.

"He said that'd be great."

"I'll be there in a half hour. It might be beneficial if there were spare waitress uniforms, unless you want to fuel the flames and have the waitresses wear their black shorts and Fangtasia tops."

"Got it. They can wear their black shorts here, but Sam's always got extra Merlotte's tees. I'll go find them now, but we should be good."

"Excellent. Oh, and Sookie?"

"Yes Eric?"

He jokingly said,"_Try_ not to get into any trouble for a half hour?"

I grinned. "I'll try my best."

He continued, "I'll text you when I'm in the parking lot. Bring the shirts out, and the girls can change in the back, so no one will see their Fangtasia shirts."

"Got it."

We hung up, and after finding the box of shirts, I went back on the floor and took over from Sam. A half hour quickly passed, and before I knew it my cell phone was buzzing and I didn't need to flip it open to know Eric was here. I felt better than I'd felt all day. Waving goodbye to Sam, I slipped out the back with the box of shirts and opened the door. There were four girls, all unfamiliar to me, hovering by the back door, so I held it open for them, gave them each a shirt, and told them what Sam looked like so they could go to him for instructions.

After that, I walked over to Eric's Corvette, which he was leaning up against and making the car even hotter than normal. He was decked out in a black suit with a light blue shirt underneath, two buttons undone to allow the perfect slice of chest. I walked up to him and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," he said back.

We looked at each other and then all of a sudden, we were kissing—I don't know who made the first move, but maybe both of us did, at the same time. It didn't matter, now that his lips were on mine and his tongue was polishing my teeth and his hands were running through my hair and over my arms. When I finally pulled back to let me catch my breath, I hugged him and murmured into his ear, "I've wanted to do that all day."

His only response was to grin and kiss me back.

...

**A/N: So who else is anxious to see what happens to poor Franklin? ATM I'm more concerned about his probable death than Bill's. *shrugs***


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Sorry I couldn't reply to all the reviews. RL was hectic as hell this week, and I had so little time to work out this chapter I figured it'd be better if I spent it writing rather than reviewing =/**

**But I did appreciate every one! Especially this one from 384soa: "**_**Had another funny thought- What if Franklin considers this foreplay with Tara! Now that would seem true to form for him & I would LMAO!**_**" Here's hoping, LOL. **

**Thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty; I sent her two different chapters for two different stories in two days, and she still likes me! Any lingering mistakes are mine, as always.**

**And thanks to CH too. I took some bits and pieces from SVM lore (I'm sure you'll be able to pick 'em out) and the characters are hers too.**

…

I finally managed to drag myself away from Eric's kisses and went back to my own car, where I started following Eric out of the parking lot. Which was fine, until he took the turn to go to my house. Yesterday we had agreed I would go to Fangtasia to read the accountant and try and find the thief, so why the heck were we going to my house? Wanting to safely talk to Eric, I pulled over and put my emergency lights on, and Eric soon did the same, stepping out to vampire-speed over to me.

"What is it?" he asked, looking concerned.

"What are you doing?" I asked simply.

He stared at me quizzically. "Taking you home."

"But I thought tonight's the night I was supposed to, like, read the accountant and see who took the forty-five thousand dollars."

"It was," he replied slowly.

"But I still want to do it! I want to help you find the thief!" I cried.

"You will. Just not tonight." He sighed and shook his head. "Sookie, from what I've heard, you have had a terrible day. You found the dead body of a girl you knew, you had to work a double-shift without any breaks, and you had to hear people talking shit about your brother. Surely you do not want to go to Fangtasia and read the dirty thoughts of even more people?"

"But I do." I crossed my arms. "I said I'd do it tonight, so I'm doing it tonight. It's just a thing for me—I always keep my word. It's fine. C'mon, turn around."

"No. You should take the night off and relax."

"No. I should do what I planned on doing and just read people for you. I mean, at least this time I'll be sitting down!" I pleaded. "Just let me do this. It's what I want." And just for kicks, I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes.

Eric's jaw stuck in place. He kept his eyes on the road, but I could see he wasn't the happiest guy on the planet. "At least go home and take a long, hot shower first," he said finally, looking up at me.

"Deal."

We were quiet after that, so quiet even the crickets didn't feel like helping out, which made the noise of my stomach growling seem that much louder.

"When was the last time you ate?" Eric asked curiously.

I had to think about it. "Um, like, three-something? I had a handful of bar nuts."

"So you haven't eaten dinner then?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm _starving_."

Eric shook his head, but he didn't say anything.

"I had a really busy day, Eric. You know that. I had to put everyone else's needs above mine," I said, trying to make him understand.

"And did they do the same for you?" he asked.

I didn't say anything. Eric was choosing the wrong time to start acting like my father. Not like there was a good time for that, but whatever.

He told me he'd take care of dinner, and that once we got to the house I would go straight upstairs and not worry about anything but my skin pruning during my long, hot, relaxing shower. I didn't give in and tell him this, but a shower sounded _soooo good _right now.

We got back into our respective cars and drove to my house, where I actually did go right upstairs to the bathroom and Eric did whatever downstairs. I had a sneaking feeling he'd call takeout or something, and I kinda wished he would. I was in the mood for something hot and greasy. I'd worked off enough calories today to earn it, and like he pointed out, I hadn't really eaten anything. Plus, there was leftover salad and some fruit in the fridge, so it'd balance all out.

I was too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to appreciate the fact that I was naked in the shower while Eric was in the house. When I felt like today's fears and worries and annoyances and bar stink was down the drain, I got out of the shower and changed into a plaid pair of flannel pajamas and the biggest, oldest, and softest sweatshirt I owned. I even put on fuzzy slippers.

I padded downstairs and saw Eric had set the table for one, and there was a big pizza box on the kitchen table; he must have called Bon Temp's only pizzeria and I had been too busy showering to hear the door ring.

"I ordered you a cheese pizza, because you made that cheese pizza bagel that one time," Eric said, gesturing to the box that was to the right of where he was sitting down, in his special seat. "And I ordered a large because that way you will have food to eat tomorrow."

I smiled at his thoughtfulness. "Thanks Eric. How much was it?"

"I've got this one," he said. When he saw I opened my mouth to reply he quickly added, "You can get the next. I promise."

Shrugging, I replied, "Eh, fair enough. Want a True Blood?"

"Sure." As I looked over my shoulder, I saw that he was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin of all time. It was so big it probably would have broken the face of a regular human.

"What?" I asked, trying to see if I sat down on anything that would have given me a stain on my ass, but from my view everything looked clean.

"Nothing," he replied in a tone that sounded like there definitely was _something_.

I turned and walked back over until I was standing right in front of him. "Come on. What?"

Raising his eyes to mine, he began to get ready to say something, and in that second I connected the dots and exclaimed, "Oh, I get it, you're smiling because I compromised and let you buy me dinner without arguing too much about it."

To his credit, Eric smirked and held his hands up innocently as he replied, "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Yeah, but you were memorizing everything so you could go home and write in down in your journal, right?" Sniggering, I added in a sing-songy voice, 'Dear Diary, today Sookie Stackhouse let me buy her a pizza." I paused. "It was _glorious_."

I was giggling so much I had to pause in between words, but Eric didn't crack a smile. "Well, I am over a thousand years old … there's a lot I want to remember."

"Wait, seriously?" I asked, all the giggles shocked out of my system. I was only kidding about the diary part. I wondered how many diaries he'd written in over a thousand years.

"Of course not. I'm a vampire. I have perfect memory," he cracked. Now it was Eric's turn to throw his head back and laugh as I crossed my arms across my chest.

Rolling my eyes, I retorted, "Ha, ha. Very funny." And even as I went to get his drink, I could still hear him chuckling behind me.

He had sobered by the time I reentered the room. "You keep a rifle in your front hall closet?" he asked me, steepling his hands on the table.

I set his heated-up True Blood in front of him and shot him a quizzical look as I walked over to my chair. "Uh, yeah, Mister Random. How'd you know that?"

"I got bored waiting for the pizza delivery man," he shrugged. "Do you know how to use it?"

"The rifle? Yeah. I always played with Jason's BB gun when he was little, and once it became just Gran and me she made sure I knew how to shoot. Why?"

Eric took a sip from the bottle and airily replied, "Just checking. But perhaps you should keep it in a more accessible place?"

"What d'you mean? The front hall closet's a great hiding place. Gran's the one who stashed it there so she could shoot lawn snakes," I replied, still standing with a hand resting on the back of my chair instead of actually sitting down in it.

"Well, you have your own deadlier, bigger snake to shoot, if you know what I mean. And you spend so much time in your kitchen, and you even come into your house through the kitchen. Perhaps you should, ah, stash it somewhere in this room?"

I thought about it. Eric was making an awful lot of sense. I really did spend most of my time in this kitchen, and it kind if seemed like it'd be a hassle to run to the hall closet to get my rifle. "Alright. I'll go get it," I said, walking over to the front of the house.

He didn't say anything when I left, and he didn't say anything when I returned, but he was always watching me. When I entered the room, I stopped in front of him as I asked, "So, where do you think I should put it?"

Eric looked around. "Maybe the oven?"

I shook my head. "That'd be such a hassle every time I baked or cooked … having to remember to take the rifle out before I turned the oven or stove on."

Just then my stomach rumbled loudly, again, and I walked over to the counter and set the rifle on it. "Whatever, I'm hungry. We can think about this later."

Eric nodded, and I sat down and ate. After everything was cleaned up, I went upstairs and put on jeans and an old green zip-up hoodie with a white cami underneath, and just like that I was ready to go to Fangtasia. We took Eric's car over, because, as he good-naturedly teased, there was less of a chance of getting in an accident in his car, not just because it was less faulty but because people would drive more carefully around someone in a Corvette.

He laughed when I responded by saying the only reason why people drove more carefully around his Corvette was because he drove like a maniac in it.

I think I dozed for a little bit, or was just on the verge of dozing, when we got on the highway. Eric was thinking about something, that much I could tell through my half-lidded peripheral vision, but about what, I didn't know. I figured he'd tell me eventually, so I quit worrying about it and just relaxed. Or, at least, as much as I could with Eric's maniac driving.

After a while, we were at Fangtasia and Eric was getting out of his car and opening my door all before I could wipe the sleep out of my eyes. We walked into the building holding hands, something Pam's eyes zeroed in on as soon as we walked through the front entrance (it was nice out, and both Eric and I had been cooped up inside all day, though for very different reasons, and I wanted to experience it). As we had walked around the corner, I had commented on the lack of cars in the parking lot, and Eric told me they closed down for the night, so we could have as much privacy as possible when I read through the employees.

Now that I was actually in the building, I could only see one, besides Pam and Long Shadow: there was a fat, balding, and extremely nervous middle-aged man—Bruce, I gathered from his thoughts—who was sitting down in a chair in front of a table that had a chair facing Bruce, which I took to be mine.

Pam gestured to the seat, and I thanked her as I sat down in it. I smiled at her and said it was good to see her again, but she just tensely nodded back at me and fixed the hemline of her pink v-neck sweater. I couldn't tell if it was a vampire thing or a Pam thing, so I just let it go. I said hello to Long Shadow, and he bowed his head. He was wearing a ripped jeans vest and leather pants, of all things.

"Sookie, this is Bruce. He's our accountant," Eric explained, rather unnecessarily. He was standing next to me, and I nodded to show I understood. "We'd like you to read him first."

"And what will happen to the thief, once I found out who stole the money?" I asked, looking over to where Eric was standing on my right.

"If we can produce proof of the crime, we'll turn the culprit over to the police. You are doing us a favor by reading the employees, so we will do you a favor and yield to your wishes. This is to your liking, am I correct?" he replied.

It was _exactly_ to my liking. "Good enough for me." I turned to look at Bruce, who was gaping at me. I guess his business interactions with Eric were a tad different than mine. I smiled charmingly, trying to ease his fears, and said, "Hi Bruce. My name is Sookie Stackhouse."

He smiled at me, or at least I think that's what he tried to do; it kinda looked more like a grimace, but he was really, really nervous. I leaned over and took a sweaty, cold hand in mine, so I could get a better reading on his thoughts.

'_I didn't take the money, you'd have to have a death wish to steal from a vampire, 'specially a vampire like Eric Northman … If he doesn't kill the sucker that actually did steal this money, I will for endangering me like this … I don't even know what Lillian do if they kill me, probably take Bobby and Heather up north to her mom's and then my kids will be goddamn vegetarians and liberals, since Joyce hates red meat … I wish I didn't work for vampires anyway, I just needed the money real bad to pay for that stupid private school Lillian wanted, I don't care if it's the number one school in the state, it's fucking expensive … I swear to God I'll never work for these things again, how can this crazy woman find out who took the fucking money? Why doesn't she let go of me? What is she? She can't be a vampire, her hand is too warm and soft. Never seen her before … I should have found out earlier that the money was missing and found out who took it before I even said anything to Eric; just because I called him the very night he caught the error doesn't mean I took the money!'_

"Bruce, did you take the money?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"No," Bruce groaned, sweat running down his face.

I looked at Eric, then back at Bruce. "Do you know who did?"

"I wish," Bruce said shakingly.

I stood, turned to Eric, and shook my head. "Not this guy," I said. Pam escorted poor Bruce out, and Eric took his suit jacket off and hung it on the back of a chair. By the time he was done Pam had brought in the next interrogee. Ginger.

"Hi Miss Stackhouse! Haven't seen you in a while," she said foolishly, grinning.

"Hi Ginger," I said sweetly. She sat down in Bruce's chair and looked expectantly at me. "I'm gonna need to hold your hand for a couple minutes, okay?"

She looked at Eric, who nodded at her, and when he did she waved a careless hand at me, as if to say, "Begin, fellow vampire server."

My fingers circled her wrist. "Did you take the money?" I asked, staring into Ginger's flat brown eyes.

She screamed, then, and began to curse me, loudly and uninhibitedly. And, I might add, very creatively. I listened to the chaos in the girl's tiny brain; it was like trying to walk over a bombed site. She had been glamoured so many times I was surprised she was as lucid as she was. I got the sense there was a male vampire, one with a low voice and a shadowy face.

"She knows who did," I said to Eric. Ginger fell silent then, though she was sobbing. "She can't say the name. He's bitten her." I leaned over and touched the scars on Ginger's neck, like the vampires couldn't see them plainly as day.

"It's some kind of compulsion," I reported, after I'd tried again. "She can't even picture him. He glamoured her."

"Hypnosis," Pam commented. Her proximity to the frightened girl had made Pam's fangs run out. "A strong vampire."

"Bring in Belinda," I suggested. Ginger was shaking like a leaf by then with thoughts she was compelled not to think pressing her from their locked closet.

"Should she stay, or go?" Pam asked me directly.

I didn't hesitate, though I was flabbergasted Pam was asking me what to do. "She should go. It'll only scare someone else."

Pam escorted a sobbing, shaking Ginger out. It was just me and Eric and Long Shadow, who had been standing close to where Ginger, and earlier Bruce, had been sitting. He had not said a single word this whole time, nor had he actually moved.

The doors swung open and Pam led Belinda over to the interrogation chair. After exchanging the expected pleasantries with Belinda, I got right to the point and asked her what vampire Ginger had been seeing.

"Anyone that would have her," Belinda said frankly, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Eric smirk. I was pretty sure Pam was smirking too; she was standing behind me, so I couldn't see.

Then all of a sudden Long Shadow's face popped up in Belinda's mind, and I looked directly at him with my mouth open ready to accuse him.

But before I even took a breath he had sprung across the table and was right in front of me. I was bowled over backward, my chair breaking underneath me and my head hitting the floor; my upflung arms were the only things between my throat and his teeth, so he bit my forearm savagely, harder and much more painful than Eric had ever bitten me. I screamed, or I tried to, but with so little air left from the impact it was more like an alarmed choking noise.

I was only conscious of the heavy figure on top of me and the pain of my arm, my own fear. I hadn't thought I was going to die when I met Bill or was at the witch war, but now I knew that I had to keep Long Shadow as far away from me as possible if I wanted to be alive. My heart was pounding so hard it was all I could hear, that and some weird fuzzy noise that I thought was the sound of me losing my consciousness.

Then Long Shadow's body pressed violently against me, almost smothering me with the extra weight, and I had no idea why. I'd been able to see his eyes over the top of my arm. They were wide, brown, crazed, icy. Suddenly they dulled and seemed to almost flatten.

Blood gushed out of Long Shadow's mouth, and I gagged. His teeth relaxed, and his face fell in on itself. It began to wrinkle. His eyes turned into gelatinous pools. Handfuls of his thick black hair fell on my face.

I was shocked beyond moving.

Hands gripped my shoulder and began pulling me out from under the decaying corpse. I pushed with my feet to scrabble back faster. There wasn't an odor, but there was gross gunk that was black and hot and, I quickly realized, all that was left of Long Shadow.

There was a stake sticking out of his back. Or, what used to be his back. Now it was sticking out of what looked like a big hunk of steaming black tar.

I looked around wildly and saw Eric standing calmly behind me, a mallet in his hand. He was watching Long Shadow decay with an unreadable expression on his face.

I looked around some more and saw Pam standing by the door, her hand gripping Belinda's arm. The waitress looked as rocky as I must have.

Even the gunk began to vanish in smoke. We all stood frozen until the last wisp was gone. The carpet had a kind of scorched mark on it.

I looked up at Eric, who was staring at me as much as I was staring at him. "You'll have to get you an area rug," I finally said, completely out of the blue. I got to my feet and looked up at Eric.

"Your mouth is bloody," Eric said. He and Pam had fully extended fangs. They'd gotten pretty excited.

"He bled onto me," I said, shocked. I brought my fingers to my lips and felt the wet liquid.

"Did any go down your throat?" Eric had dropped the mallet, and he was looking me up and down.

"Probably," I replied, watching every step he took.

"Intriguing," Pam said. Her voice was dark and husky. She was eyeing Belinda in a way that would have made me distinctly nervous, but Belinda seemed to be preening, incredibly.

Eric was looking at me with interest, the same kind of interest that Pam had in Belinda. Suddenly he was a lot closer to me, so much closer that I couldn't see what Pam was doing with Belinda, but I could hear enough moans and groans to get an idea or a word-picture. Then all of a sudden it stopped, and I heard the door close.

"Where did they go?" I nervously asked Eric.

"Away," he said, not sounding very concerned. His eyes were looking up and down at my lips and cleavage, both of which were covered in blood. He licked his own lips and looked at me, eyes crackling with a blue intensity in a way I had never seen before.

"Your mouth is bloody," he repeated, and then he swooped down and was kissing me, pressing himself up against me, and backing me up against the door that was only a few feet behind me. I was still reeling from Long Shadow's attack and wasn't quite up to speed—Eric was kissing me? Eric was, incredibly, turned on by all of this? Eric was kissing the blood off of my lips and my cheeks and my jaw and … _oh_, my neck. That felt terrific.

Eric quickly unzipped my hoodie and yanked it off my, his lips never leaving mine. Once I was exposed in my cami, my formerly-white cami now forever stained in red, he stopped and pulled back a little to admire me. The lusty gaze in his eyes was borderline orgasm-inducing.

He went back to attacking my lips rougher and harder, but I was more than capable—and willing—to keep up with him. Once again, he made his way across my cheekbones, on my jaw line, down my neck, and into the little crevice of my collarbone, licking and sucking every inch of my skin and then some. His hands made their way to my breasts, cupping them and stroking too softly, too quickly.

His big, cool hands traveled down south, and he brought my cami over my head; I forced my hands to stop fisting his hair for the few seconds needed for him to leave me in just my bra. A few seconds later, and they were covered by Eric's hands, as he stroked them through the thin lace fabric. I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensations Eric was evoking.

He groaned and looked up at me as he hoarsely asked, "Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?"

"Lick Long Shadow's blood?" I asked stupidly. Hey, I was running low on oxygen, with the kisses Eric had been bestowing onto me.

Thankfully, Eric didn't comment on my comment. Instead, he distractedly replied, "Lick you. Lick whatever's on you. I don't care."

He pressed his face in between my breasts and continued, "Do you know how long I've been waiting to do this?"

"Or this?" he asked, bending down so he could kiss his way down my stomach.

His fingers grazed the top button on my jeans, and he quickly undid it but still left the jeans where they were. "Or this?"

The look in his eye made me very aware of the fact that I was practically naked and he was fully clothed. And the look in his eyes, oddly enough, made me realize he was a vampire, and he was really acting like one now. His gaze was predatory, not caressing as it had been the last time he saw me naked, all those weeks ago. He was Eric hopped up on bloodlust or something, not the Eric I knew—well, either of them, I guess.

This was the first time we moved on from making out like horny teenagers—which we had only just started to do, too—and I didn't want it to be because I had blood on my boobs. This felt weird, and not in a good way.

Eric and I had just started our relationship again and it only now began to slightly, _slightly_ resemble the one I had with Amnesiac Eric. Now? I felt like a fangbanger thrown at Eric to curb his bloodlust. Would he have kissed me like that, would he have taken my shirt off like that, if I didn't have blood all over me? No, I didn't think so. If Long Shadow hadn't attacked me, and Eric hadn't attacked him, then there wouldn't be all this blood to excite Eric, and we probably would have gone back to my house or sat around talking about what just happened. Instead, Eric was barely managing sentences with more than five words in them, and he was eyeing me like a starving dog eyes a juicy steak, which was the best comparison I could come up with.

Incredibly, I pushed his head away from where he was unzipping my zipper with his teeth. He looked up at me, the epitome of confused.

"Eric, snap out of it," I said nervously.

He just stared at me.

"Come on, go back to normal," I urged. "I don't want it to be like this."

"You don't want what to be like what?" he asked carefully, leaning back on his haunches. His fangs still hadn't popped down, and his pupils were still dilated.

"When we move on in our relationship … fuck, I'll just come out and say it, when we have sex or do anything that can be considered any type of sex, I want it to be because we both want it so we can be closer to the other person, not because I have blood splattered all over my body and you haven't fed from a human in a long amount of time," I explained, keeping my eyes on him the whole time.

With a huge effort, Eric reined himself in. "When you smell and look like that," he said, "I just want to fuck you and bite you and rub myself all over you."

That was pretty comprehensive, and I won't say I didn't have a second (split evenly between lust and fear) of picturing such activity.

He closed his eyes in deep concentration, and after a couple seconds his fangs popped back in his mouth. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," I whispered.

Eric stood up and took a couple steps back, putting some distance between us. But he didn't say anything, and we just stared across at each other for a couple seconds.

"Follow me," he murmured, and he started to walk over to the door that led to the employee-only section. I stood still for a couple seconds, mulling it over, before I daintily put my cami back on and followed him. I trusted Eric.

He didn't say anything the whole time, and he walked a little in front of me. He led me to a new room, one that I hadn't been in before; it was past his office, and it was closest to the employee bathroom.

He opened the door for me. "I imagine you want to take a shower," he said, finally looking at me. I smiled and nodded gratefully. "Want" didn't even begin to cover it. "This is the employee shower. It's small and basic, but it will do the job. I'll find you a towel and some spare clothes."

"Thank you, Eric," I replied. "And I'm sorry about before."

He looked me evenly in the eyes, that crazy spark gone. "Everything you said was correct," he said hoarsely, "and you made some good points. I didn't mean to frighten you or push you to do something you didn't want to do."

"It's not that I didn't want it, it's that I didn't want it like that, under those circumstances," I explained.

"I understand." He paused. "I'll leave you to your shower."

He turned on his heel and walked away, and once I heard the door click behind him I started to undress. My clothes were disgusting, completely un-wearable. There was no hope of cleaning them. I was just glad I played it low-key tonight, and didn't wear a fancy Fangtasia dress.

Even though there was only a bar of soap and barely enough room for me to walk around in a circle, it was the best shower I ever had.

Once I was cleaned up as best as I could be, I hesitantly stuck my head out from behind the shower curtain and saw that Eric must have visited again. Or at least, I hoped it was Eric. Someone had pulled over a plastic chair and placed a towel, a big white t-shirt with the Fangtasia label splashed across it, and a pair of black shorts that I was used to the waitresses at Fangtasia wearing. I gratefully toweled myself off and put the clothes on; the shirt was so huge it covered the booty shorts entirely, but I didn't mind at all.

I wrapped the towel around my hair, kind of like a turban, and gingerly picked up my bloodied clothing. I'd probably just have to throw them out in the nearest trash can. I almost wanted to give them to Eric as a memento, but I thought that was weird.

I opened the door and looked around; Eric, or anyone else, was nowhere to be seen. Sighing, I decided I'd just go and see if Eric was in his office.

He was, lying down on the couch with one hand on his chest and the other folded behind his head; he had changed into a black tank top and olive green track pants. Once I closed the door and walked up to him, Eric sat up so there'd be room next to him.

"Where should I put these?" I asked, holding up my bloody clothes that I had smushed into a ball.

"I'll take them," he said, swiftly getting up and walking over to a closet to take out a laundry bag. "I'll just throw them in my dry-cleaning; I go to a vampire-operated place, so it'll be fine." He opened it and held it open for me, and I hesitantly dropped my clothes in.

"Thanks," I replied.

He waved a hand in the air. "I owe it to you, at the very least."

I didn't respond back to that. Instead, I cleared my throat and changed topics. "Can we go home now? I'm done for the night."

He nodded. "Of course," he said, and started walking over to the secret door.

Once we were outside I asked, "Won't Pam worry about where we went?"

"She's a smart girl. She'll figure it out."

"Oh. Um, are you going to get in trouble for killing Long Shadow?"

He shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I'll probably just have to pay a fine, but it's worth it."

"Okay. No more questions."

Eric laughed, but we both remained quiet for the rest of the way back to Bon Temps. I just stared out the window, unable to stop replaying Long Shadow's attacking and later death. Sometimes I caught Eric looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn't say anything about it and he didn't either.

I didn't exactly feel like talking. I was pooped out to the nth degree. My day had sucked, and my night wasn't any better. I was exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally—and I just wanted to go home and take another shower and put on my comfiest jammies and go to sleep. I felt like I'd cry if I had to do anything else.

As soon as Eric parked in my driveway I opened my door and got out of the car. Eric quickly exited too, but he was as quiet as a shadow as he walked behind me to the back porch. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, my hand reaching for the switch to turn on the light in the kitchen. I stilled when I felt a slightly warm liquid on the switch. That wasn't right.

Eric started to say something, but I didn't hear it because I screamed as soon as I turned the light on. There was blood everywhere in my kitchen, and I wildly looked around to try and find the source. I looked up and finally found what caused it—Tina, my poor cat Tina, the only other person living in the house, was where all the blood was coming from.

Her mangled body was wrapped on one of the wings of the ceiling fan, and blood was coming down from her like her body was a lawn sprinkler. I was hit across the face with my cat's blood, and I shrieked at the top of my lungs.

…

**Just a heads up … if you have me on author alert, then you've already seen that I wrote a o/s for the weekly challenge over on the Sookieverse thread; the prompt was to give Sookie your life or job, and I wrote about Record Store Sookie (and by association, Record Store Eric). **

**It's called Behind The Music and you should read it! I'd put the link here, but with the copying and pasting and spaces, it's probably just easier to go to my profile. Like, NAO. :D**

**Enjoy True Blood tonight! You know I'll have my fingers crossed for Franklin Mott.**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Over 2,000 reviews! I never, ever, ever expected that when I started this. I mean, I was blown away when I hit 1K, but now … now I'm over the moon. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And if I'm being too enthusiastic, it's because this means so much to me. I know I haven't been the greatest at responding to those day-improving reviews, but I want you to believe me when I say I am thankful for each one. **

**I'm also thankful to chiisai-kitty for beta-ing this and helping my lazy brain differentiate between True Blood and SVM. She's my secret weapon :P**

**All characters belong to CH. On a related note, the sky is blue.**

…

Eric's arms came around and me and pulled me to my chest, and I buried my face there, mumbling jumbled phrases like "Tina … she can't … disinfectant … tuna … never … who?" He didn't respond to them, as I could feel him digging around in his pants for something—his cell phone, I saw, after a couple seconds. He pressed a couple buttons with one hand as the other stroked my hair comfortingly. He backed up and led me over to where the porch steps were; I sat down next to him, not feeling safe enough to get out of his embrace.

Tina had been more than my cat; she was like my roommate. I had enjoyed her company and taking care of her; I could only hope that she had felt the same way about me and she liked living with me, in the couple of weeks we were together. I felt closer to my cat than anyone, excluding Eric and Pam and Sam. And now, I couldn't be. Because she was dead. Because someone wanted her to be dead. Because someone wanted me to be dead.

"I just sent out a mass-text to Pam and all of the vampires who live closest to Fangtasia," he said once I quieted down. "They're to meet at Fangtasia, and Pam's going to lead them over to your house so we can track whoever did this. And when we do … it won't be pretty."

"Eric … I think whoever did this meant to kill me. I think whoever did this killed Dawn and Maudette," I whimpered.

Eric's eyes were hard and grim as he replied, "Me too."

Next he pressed some more buttons on the phone, only this time he brought it to his ear and spoke into it. "This is Eric Northman. I need you to come to Sookie's, right now ... She's fine, but her cat isn't, and I need you to watch her for me ... I already said that. _Yes, right now_ ... Fine."

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Merlotte. He's coming over now, to watch you," Eric replied after he put the phone back in his pocket.

"How'd you get his number?" I asked, slightly pulling out of my niche.

"You've called me from Merlotte's in the past; I thought it'd be a good idea to save the number."

"Oh. Wait. Why are you calling Sam and telling him he needs to watch me? _Watch me_, like you're going away on vacation for a week and need someone to dog-sit." I pulled away from Eric, but only a little.

Eric tilted his head. "Perhaps 'watch' wasn't the best phrase. More like ... 'protect,' I suppose."

"Protect? I'm not a diamond necklace either, Eric," I said stubbornly.

"Sookie, your cat was just murdered in your house."

Well, there was that. I had just managed to forget about poor Tina, too. "Where are you going to go, then, when Sam's _protecting_ me?"

"If there's any chance to find whoever did this, it'll be because of me. I am the oldest and strongest vampire in this area, and because of that I'll be able to pick up who did this. Something tells me the Bon Temps Sheriff Department won't be equipped to properly search for fingerprints, or else they already would have caught the killer. I'm sorry, Sookie, but it's the only solution I can think of."

I tried to best him, but I couldn't. Eric always knew what to do and when to do it, so I trusted him. I knew he wouldn't do this now unless it really was the only solution he could think of. "Fine. Shouldn't you call the police?"

He sighed wearily as he replied, "I guess. I don't have much faith in them, after meeting 'the physical embodiment of the law' earlier this evening."

I felt drugged up, that how out-of-body this whole experience seemed. It wasn't real. These kinds of things didn't happen to small-town barmaids. Giggling loopily, I said, "That Andy sure is a piece of work, huh?"

Eric didn't laugh, but he did call 9-1-1 and say that if Andy Bellefleur had any hopes about finding the Bon Temps murderer, he needed to get a squad car down at Sookie Stackhouse's place. He hung up after that, and I just lost it. I'd had to talk to or about the police so many times today, and now I had to do it all over again. Suddenly, I just started sobbing. I cried out of sheer exhaustion, completely worn out by everything I had seen and done today. Eric held me, and I sobbed into his tank top. I was so frazzled I didn't even notice feeling Eric's hard, dependable chest through the thin fabric of his tank top. I was too frazzled even for that.

For the third time today, I saw a dead body. For the second time today, I was covered in blood. And for the first time today, I wasn't scared, as much as the other times.

How could I be, in Eric's arms?

While my brain seemed to be on the verge of shutting down completely, I knew his was working overtime, two steps ahead of everyone else's. That comforted me more than a hot fudge sundae or a hot shower could right now.

I looked up at him, and while doing so I saw that I had ruined his shirt, both with my tears and whatever blood had been on my face. I had just gotten rid of all of Long Shadow's blood too. "Oh, look, I've messed up your shirt," I breathed, scowling at the shirt like it was its fault. Then I looked down at the one I was wearing "Well, I messed up both of your shirts."

"I'll just put them in the dry-cleaning bag," Eric said lightly, kind of patting me on the head ... my least-bloodiest body part that was within patting distance.

I hiccupped loudly, jumping a little; my nerves were so shot I was scaring myself. I was a mess. Then I laughed, normally at first, and then a little crazily after I got going. I experienced every style of laughing from giggling to guffawing, all in the span of a minute. But I stopped, much to Eric's wordless relief, when a pair of headlights came up my driveway, and an extremely worried-looking Sam screeched to a halt and ran over to where we were sitting. Eric was instantly on his A-game, asking Sam to step inside and see if he smelled anything.

After making sure I was okay—I numbly said I was fine, not budging an inch out of Eric's reach—Sam hesitantly walked inside. I looked over my shoulder and saw him wince as he looked up at the ceiling fan that, oddly enough, neither Eric nor I had thought to turn off. He stepped inside some more and inhaled deeply, his back arching as he did so. After a few seconds he came back and stopped next to Eric.

"Same scent as this morning," Sam said darkly. "Whoever this guy is, he's the same one who killed Dawn. Or woman, I guess. Whatever, this is the killer."

"I suspected as much," Eric said. He got up and explained to Sam that he already called the cops to come over, and that vampires who owed him fealty were going to arrive soon to help track. Sam didn't sound thrilled at being told his sense of smell was equal to that of a minute-old baby vampire and therefore he was to stay with me during all this to provide support and comfort, but after he took a good look at me he agreed. I had stood up when Eric did, but I had to hold on to the handrails, because I was feeling a little faint.

While Eric and Sam were metaphorically measuring their dicks, I watched the unmistakable blue and red lights of a cop car appear on the night skyline and come closer to my house. Eric and Sam shut up as Bud Dearborn and Andy got out of the car and walked over to us, stopping shortly in their tracks when they saw who Sam and I were standing with.

"What in the name of tarnation is this?" Andy grumbled as he and Bud approached the steps like two schoolboys called to the front of the classroom.

"This is a crime scene. You should stop saying Southern-isms that only sound good coming out of Sookie's mouth, and focus on why we even needed to call you in the first place," Eric replied coolly, sliding an arm around me and pulling me closer to him. I leaned into his embrace, needing all the comfort I could get talking to the police about the murder of my cat.

I swear to God, I heard Bud whisper to Andy, "He's bigger than you said he was."

Eric looked annoyed at the buffoonery, and I was right there with him. _These _were the guys who were in charge of solving a murder case? Eric was a sheriff too, and he seemed more of a sheriff than poor old Bud ever would be.

Bud coughed and recovered the fastest. "You said this was a crime scene, Mr. Northman?"

"You can call me Sheriff Northman, actually," Eric replied easily, and Bud got even paler and scared-looking. "And yes, it is. Sookie and I returned to her house this evening and saw there was a break-in. Someone murdered her cat. And stole her rifle."

"Oh, really?" I asked, surprised. "I didn't even think about that."

Eric nodded at me. "I didn't either, at first. But I looked, and it wasn't where you put it on the counter earlier this evening."

He looked to Bud and explained, "She had kept the rifle in the front hall closet for protection, but with the recent murders we were trying to think of an easier-to-reach place for her to hide it. We didn't come up with a solution, and she left it on the counter when we went to Fangtasia."

Bud took a notebook out and started writing. While he was doing that, Andy said to me, "I didn't know you had a cat. Or a rifle."

"Not anymore," I said bluntly. "And you're going to help us figure out why."

"What's Merlotte doing here?" he asked, trying to recover.

"Helping me. What are _you_ supposed to be doing here?" I asked pointedly. "If you're going to ask me questions, at least make them relevant to my cat's murder." Eric hugged me a little, or as best as he could standing next to me with an arm around my shoulder. I could tell he was proud of me for being so strong at a time like this. I was proud of myself too, for keeping myself together … for now.

"Andy," Bud said, motioning to the door, "let's just head inside." I could tell he and Andy were a little shaken because they thought they'd have to be seeing my dead body tonight, not Tina's. I couldn't fault them for that. They opened the door and started poking around my kitchen.

After he squeezed my shoulders, Eric went in after them. I could hear him speaking to the two men, but I couldn't exactly make out what he was saying. I probably could have asked Sam, but just then I heard some rustling in the trees, and I turned to see what was causing it. Pam was leading about ten vampires, some that seemed vaguely familiar, and some that I didn't recognize at all. There was an even divide between men and women. They were staring at me and Sam as much as we were staring at them.

If Bud and Andy were out here, I'm sure they would have peed their pants by now.

Eric came out of the house then. He handed me a roll of paper towels that he had thoughtfully grabbed while he was in there, and I thanked him as I started to dab at the blood on my skin. I noticed that Long Shadow's bite mark on my arm had disappeared; some of his blood must have gotten there and healed it for me. One less thing for me to worry about, which was good.

Eric walked to the top of the porch steps, and all of the vampires bowed their heads at him. Pam, as befitting her status as Eric's child, came and stood directly in front of him, while the others were a couple footsteps behind her. I looked over at Sam, and he looked as astonished as I'm sure I did.

"This is my lover, Sookie Stackhouse," Eric said in a loud, clear voice.

I incredulously looked over at Eric, who looked like he was wearing his poker face, and then I looked even further over at Pam, who looked like she was wearing her poker face if she had just lost all her money to a better hand when she clearly thought she would win. Most of the vampires looked shocked for a hot second before they wiped their faces clean and bowed their heads at me like they had bowed at Eric

_Lover?_ _My lover_? Eric hadn't called me that since … since we were actual lovers. When he was amnesiac. Why did he call me that, just now?

Eric looked undisturbed as he waited for all the heads to come up and all eyes back on him. When that finally happened, he added, "Tonight, someone has killed her cat in an attempt to kill her; there have been other murders in this town where both of the victims were women with known romantic relationships with vampires. We will split into teams and track down the murderer, but we want him or her to be alive. Pam will fill you in with other pertinent details."

Pam had reigned herself in again, and she loudly said, "You need to organize yourselves into groups. Zero to a hundred, gather by the bushes. A hundred-and-one to two hundred, gather by the shed. Two hundred-and-one to three hundred, gather by the cars. The rest, stay here."

Then it was if Pam yelled, "Break!" and the vampires broke out of their halftime huddle. There were about two or three vampires per group.

I'm a little embarrassed to say that it took a couple seconds for me to realize that Pam had them organized by age, and therefore smelling abilities. I thought maybe she and Eric ran a spy agency on the side or something, and these were those vampires spy numbers; Eric was so enterprising, I wouldn't have been surprised.

Once everyone was all set, Pam said, "Can everyone pick up on the unknown scent? Yes?" There were a few verbal replies, but most of the vampires just nodded. "Okay. That's who we're looking for. The youngest group, take the left perimeter. Second-youngest group, take the right. Third-youngest, take the cemetery and the woods surrounding it. Ignore the vampire scent of the old haunted mansion, as that is of no concern at the moment. The rest of you will be with Eric and I as we take the roads and legitimately track the scent. Any questions?"

There were none.

"Very well then. Whoever finds the murderer doesn't have to put hours in at Fangtasia for six months. Go." And with that, Pam walked over to the oldest group, even though I thought that technically she should be in another, but I guessed being Eric's child had special privileges, because no one questioned it.

The vampires spread out, except for Eric. He turned to me and cupped my face in his hands. "I must go now, dear one. But I will return, and when I do it will be with the one who has brought so much misery to you. I promise you that."

I wanted to ask him about the "lover" business, but I figured this was neither the time nor the place. Nor the thing I should be obsessing about now. I gazed up at him as I finally said, "I fully acknowledge the absurdity of telling a thousand-year-old vampire to be safe, but you will be, right?"

He nodded, smiling a little. "I'll be back before those two idiots in there even find the source of the blood," he tried to joke. I smiled meekly, not having enough oomph in me to even try faking it. Eric's eyes scanned my face before his lips came crashing down to mine to give me the mother of all kisses. There was a little part of me that whined that it was for Sam's benefit, since he was standing right there and obviously heard and saw everything we were doing ... but that part quickly got drowned out by the one that was jumping up and down screaming, "So what? Eric's kissing you! Stop listening to me and kiss him back!"

When I felt like I was going to pass out from the loss of oxygen and the tongue-Olympics I had just played with Eric, I pulled away and gasped, "You should go now." Though he didn't look too excited about that, he gave me another kiss, one that was much gentler, and turned to Sam.

"Shifter, if anything happens to her, you don't even want to know what I'll threaten you with." And then he was gone.

I didn't realize that when I told Eric he should go, it'd mean that I'd be left here panting from his kisses while a very awkward Sam stared down at his shoelaces. "Sorry," I said apologetically, but he just waved his hand at me and said, "It's fine."

I sat down on the steps, and Sam joined me. He was talking about what happened after I left, but I didn't really care about who said what and how he left Arlene behind to watch the bar and he wasn't too confident about that. But I nodded and "uhh-huhhed" at all the right moments so he didn't catch how I was more concerned with scouring the skyline to have the first glimpse of Eric coming back.

After a while Bud and Andy came out of the house, and Sam and I stood up and turned around to hear what they had to say.

"Sookie, where were you—hey, where'd the vamp go?" Andy asked, looking around. He and Bud shared a not-so-secret smile of relief.

"He went to follow the scent of the killer," I explained. I read their minds and found they were incredibly glad he wasn't around, because they hadn't found more than a dead cat in that kitchen.

"Oh. Well then, where were you tonight?" he asked, and I told him. Then he asked me some more questions, and I answered those too. _Yes, I did remember to lock the door before I left for Fangtasia with Eric. No, no one else had a key except for Jason. No, I had no idea where he was, even though Bud and Andy had seen him since this morning and I hadn't._ That kind of thing.

"Well, Sam, guess there's no need to ask you where you were tonight," Bud said jokingly. He saw my confused expression and clarified, "Me and Andy were having a beer at Merlotte's when we saw him dash outta that place not ten minutes ago."

"A-huh-huh-huh," I fake-laughed. Dawn had been found dead this morning, so what were Andy and Bud doing "having a beer" later that night? God, they weren't celebrating, were they?

As I listened to Andy compliment Sam on the burger he'd had at Merlotte's the other day, I couldn't help but wish Eric would just come back to me, with or without the murderer.

I tuned out to the conversation the guys were having, but that stopped when Andy's cell phone started to ring and he looked at it and read off the number. "Huh, don't recognize this number."

I did! "That's Eric! Pick it up, you big oaf, pick it up!" I cried, hitting him on the arm excitedly.

Andy gave me the strangest look, but he did answer the phone. After he cleared his throat, he answered, in a _much_ deeper voice, "Detective Bellefleur."

His facial features tightened up, and he dumbly said, "You sure? ... No, sir, I wasn't doubting you, it's just that that's where Arlene lives with Rene ... Arlene is the waitress Sookie works with. She didn't tell you about … yes, but— …. no, and— ... Yessir. We'll be there in five." He slammed the phone shut and turned to Bud. "Said he found something at Arlene and Rene's, and we needed to see it."

"Alright, let's just go on over there," Bud said. "Night, you too. Sookie, sorry 'bout your cat."

I was pleased with myself for waiting until they pulled out of my driveway to turn to Sam and excitedly exclaim, "What're ya waiting for? C'mon, Sam!" I think I even maybe punched him in the shoulder. I don't really remember.

"What? Sookie, have you lost your mind? They think they found the murderer, and you can't wait to go over there?" Sam replied incredulously.

"It's Arlene's place, remember? She probably just stopped by and left earlier today. And besides, Eric's gonna be there, with every single vampire within, like, a hundred-mile radius of here, or whatever. The only thing I'm worried about is whether or not my car will be able to get us over there fast enough," I called out over my shoulder, too busy going down the stairs to look at Sam while I was talking to him.

"Eric called Andy, didn't he?" Sam asked, coming up behind me.

"Eric knew I'd be around Andy when that happened, and that Andy would probably tell me, didn't he?" I countered fiercely. "Sam Merlotte, you can bet your butt I'm going over to Arlene's right now to see what's up. The only question is, you with me?"

I turned and saw Sam biting his lip, something he did when he had to do something he didn't want to—like having to call up Jane Bodehouse's grown-up and very embarrassed son to come pick her up at eight o'clock when she got too drunk.

"Fine. But I'm driving," he finally muttered.

I almost argued it, but I was so glad he was agreeing to let me go over there I didn't want to push him. "'Kay, let's go!"

Once we got there, I saw Bud and Andy's cop car, as well as the only other two ones Bon Temps had. Though no one was actually in the cars, the lights were flashing; I could see Arlene's neighbors turning their houselights on and wandering over to windows.

"Wonder what that's about?" I asked, nodding at Arlene's apartment.

"Nothing good, I'm sure," Sam said wearily.

I hopped out of the car and Sam followed suit. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back, saying, "Hey, we don't know what's happening in there. Let me go in first, 'kay?"

I shrugged. As long as I was going in there, I didn't care about the order.

We were about to walk in, but suddenly Eric appeared at the door. "What are you doing here?" he asked, herding me and Sam off the steps and over near the bushes. They were so tall I couldn't look through the windows to see what was happening inside.

"What do you mean, 'what are you doing here?' I wanna know why Andy and Bud had to go to Arlene's house!" I replied. "So, why are we here?"

Eric stared at me. Right when I was going to goad him into saying something, he explained, "I tracked the scent here. It was hard, since the scent was very faint … even though I was with the oldest vampires in my area, I was the only one who could track it."

"Cool, but you're not answering my question. Why are we _still _here?" I asked persistently.

"It's not good, Sookie," Eric said, his face clouding up. "The scent is here. The murderer lives here." He looked at Sam, and Sam nodded in agreement.

"How do you know?" I asked. The only people who lived here were Arlene, Rene, and Arlene's two kids. I didn't think any of them would want to kill me. Coby and Lisa called me "Aunt Sookie," for Chrissake! I babysat them whenever Arlene asked me!

"The scent—the scent of him, the scent of your cat's blood. Also, I found your rifle stored under the sofa cushions."

"Wait, how'd you get in the house? I thought vampires had to be invited?" Sam asked. I turned to look at him, astonished that he knew that, and he shrugged a little. "What? Been doing some research, 'sall."

Furrowing his brows, Eric nodded. "Correct. There were two miniature humans, and one adult human inside. The man invited me in."

Sam asked Eric a question and I was aware they were talking, but I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and started reading the minds of the people in the house.

I made myself start with the hardest … Rene. His thoughts were so messy and so feelings-based—fury, annoyed, confused, scared—that his brain resembled the haziness that was like a Were. He was thinking about me, but in a small compartment of his brain, one that I had never felt before, whenever I accidentally read his mind in the past. This part was complex and held his deepest thoughts, the ones he kept away from the others, like how he met Arlene or how his favorite childhood memory was fishing with his grandfather.

He was thinking about me except … it wasn't really me, but rather, how Rene saw me. And I didn't like how he saw me. I had huge holes in my neck, and I was lewd; I had a knowing leer on my face, and I patted the inside of my thigh suggestively, all while wearing the Merlotte's uniform from earlier today, my hair even in the same pony-tail it had been in.

Then his train of thought switched, and I witnessed him slitting Tina's throat and placing her body on my fan. He had been livid when he went to my house and saw my car in the driveway, but there wasn't anyone in the house but Tina. He took his anger out on her, because she was there; he was so sure tonight would be the night he'd kill me, since he saw how I left Merlotte's earlier. He was pissed when he found the rifle on my counter and the True Bloods in my fridge; the combination of the two made him as angry as the knowledge that I probably had bite marks on my body.

He thought I'd be an easy kill tonight, much harder than last night, with Dawn.

Dawn had put up a fight—sure, she'd been naked, and that showed how much of a filthy slut she was, but he had to hand it to her, she knew her way around a punch. They'd fought for a couple minutes before he finally managed to pin her against the bed and strangle her. Maudette had been the easiest—she didn't mind that he was seeing Arlene when he propositioned her, and she didn't put up much of a struggle when he put his hands around her throat and squeezed—the same way apparently Jason had, but obviously much harder, in the sex tape Maudette had shown him earlier. Well, actually, the fucking cat was the easiest, but it was a fucking cat, after all. Funny how he was always more of a dog-person.

I was done. After seeing my own murder in Rene's mind, and seeing three actual murders there too, I switched channels. I was glad Andy was thinking about how Rene was a sick little fuck, and how relieved he was that Rene was cooperating, sitting down on the couch like he didn't have handcuffs on him and police officers hovering around him.

Coby was confused, because he didn't know why some tall blonde guy had come in the house and pinned Rene against the wall. He also didn't know why immediately after that he felt the need to take the other miniature human in the house and go to their bedroom and stay there no matter what they heard.

Lisa was admiring Kenya's braids and wishing her snarly red hair could be tamed like that. She also didn't know why, when that tall, fairy-tale handsome man was at the door and Rene asked him to come in, she felt the need to take the other miniature human in the house and go to their bedroom and stay there no matter what they heard.

Kenya was in their bedroom, talking to Coby and Lisa and explaining that they needed to talk to Rene in private right now. She was also hoping that he hadn't done anything to these kids. She could hear his rambling now, about how Maudette had been an easy kill, and even though she was a police officer, it made her sick to her stomach. She hoped the kids weren't able to hear him, and she raised her voice to try and cover his up as she answered Coby's question of how she got to be a cop.

"Rene," I said flatly, all of a sudden, and Eric and Sam stopped talking to look at me—Eric knowingly, and Sam confusedly.

"Yes, Sookie. He's handcuffed and being interrogated as we speak," Eric explained.

"What? You're kidding!" Sam cried out. "Rene?"

Eric and I nodded solemnly, even though we didn't plan it. Eric didn't ask why I already knew this, but I assumed that was because he had an idea of what I had been doing.

Sam shook his head. "This is _Rene_ we're talking about! He hugged you earlier today when people were saying bad things about Jason. Jesus, he said you reminded him of his little sister, right? Rene's not the killer! He can't be!"

Eric replied, "You should know, he's already confessed to killing his younger sister, Cindy. Andy called the police department over in Monroe, and about a year ago a Cindy Marshall was found strangled in her apartment. Rene had been the one to call 9-1-1, actually; said he'd stopped by so they could go out for coffee and found her like that, all of her valuables gone. The police believed it was a robbery that led to her murder when she was still in her apartment; it was easy enough, since she lived in a bad neighborhood. They didn't ask a lot of questions, but Rene still wanted to flee. Once he could, he left town and changed his name—to Lenier. And about five minutes ago, when Andy and Bud showed up, he admitted to killing her, and he admitted to Maudette and Dawn, and, Sookie, he admitted to your cat. He also said he went to your house to try and kill you, since he knew you ducked out early. He was pissed you weren't home, and he wanted to make you pay."

"I know," I said simply, and Eric and Sam exchanged a look.

After a moment of staring pensively at me, Eric continued, "Rene even brought out a box of Maudette's homemade sex-video tapes he'd taken to try and frame Jason—I guess the only sex tape at her house was the one of him strangling her? I'm not very clear on that—and he gave keys out too—a key to your place and a key to Dawn's place—that he'd stolen from Jason's key ring at work yesterday. And, of course, there is the matter of your rifle. "

"Why on earth is he so talkative? Criminals on TV usually tell the cops they've got the wrong guy, not tell them their whole life story," I wondered out loud. Of course, I didn't exactly mind his talkativeness, since he was confessing and all, but I just didn't get it.

Sam starting nodding his head. "Yeah, Rene's always been a little quiet, always kept to himself. Never had to throw him out before neither. Why's he talking so much?"

"Well, he knows he's caught. Once I found your rifle, he knew it was all over. Plus, I'm sure I scared him, that and all of the other vampires waiting outside for him. I didn't even need to glamour him into confessing—he just started talking. He didn't even mind repeating everything when Andy and Bud, and later that Kenya person and some more officers, came." Eric shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly? He's confessing. I'm not going to question his motives."

"I am. Why is he so anti-vampire?" I asked.

He sighed. "Apparently his sister had been dating one all along, and she knew it, too. After the Great Revelation, she told her brother that her boyfriend was a vampire, and once she started being confident enough to show off her bites, Rene just snapped. Strangled her with the string of the apron she'd been wearing—apparently she was a hospital cafeteria worker—and had sex with her corpse. Thought she'd sunk so low, she would like it."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. If I thought I was shocked, because he was my brother's friend and my coworker's beau, I didn't even want to imagine what his sister had felt, before he killed her. Poor girl. "I just … this is _Rene_. It's so surreal. I can't even … it doesn't even feel real."

Sam nodded dazedly. "I know, right? Who'd have thought? _Rene!_"

We were all silent for a few seconds. Then I turned to Eric and exclaimed, "Eric! What if we stayed home tonight, and didn't go to Fangtasia? Oh my God … just, oh my God."

"I know," Eric said seriously.

I exhaled deeply, and then inhaled. I repeated that for some time, until I felt a little better. "Where'd Pam and all the other vampires go?" I asked, looking around.

"Once I discovered Rene was the killer, I told them they could go home, and since I obviously can't not go to Fangtasia for the next six months, each of them would get a three-week vacation from Fangtasia duty."

"Oh," was all I could say to that.

Then Eric turned around towards the house, and I strained my eyes in the shadowy light to see what he was looking at. After about fifteen seconds, Rene came out of the doorway, his hands cuffed behind his back. Bud was walking behind him, watching every step, and he pushed Rene forward gently when Rene stopped to gawk at me. I'd never thought him particularly handsome or attractive, but I certainly wasn't going to start now; he looked downright evil as his swarthy face crumpled and he snarled, "You! This is all your fault, you! Crazy beetch!"

Though he was small and skinny, he managed to break away from Bud and start coming for me. Eric whizzed in front of me and growled at Rene, his fangs popping out with a click that was audible even over Rene's howls.

"I didn't rip your throat out earlier because I wanted to have you confess. But now that you've done that, there is nothing stopping me from killing you if you take one more step towards her. _Nothing_," Eric threatened in a dangerously low voice.

He raised an eyebrow as he watched Rene stop his movement and allow himself to be taken away to the cop car by Bud, Andy, and now Kenya, the latter two having sprinted out of the house once Rene's whole rant-thing started up. I could hear that Rene was muttering under his breath, but sometimes there are things you're better off not knowing.

Eric, Sam, and I silently watched Andy and Bud throw Rene in the back of the cop car, and Kenya got in the driver's seat and pulled out of the driveway. Or, at least, I tried to watch, but Eric was still in front of me and was blocking my view, either intentionally or not.

Bud and Andy wandered over to where we were standing, stopping short a couple feet away. "Now, as much as we appreciate your help in finding Rene, um, Mr. Sheriff Eric Northman sir, we're gonna have to ask that y'all go somewhere else, 'cause state troopers are gonna be here any second," Andy said nervously.

"What about Coby and Lisa?" I asked immediately.

"They're with another officer right now. We sent a car over to pick up Arlene; we need to ask her a couple questions," Andy explained. "Rene said he hasn't told her, and that he hasn't told anyone, but we need to confirm that."

"Shit. That means I gotta go," Sam said. He turned to me and said, "Call me later, Sookie?"

"You got it."

"Great. And I am so, so, ridiculously sorry about what happened to Tina, and what you had to go through tonight," he said apologetically.

"Thanks," I said, smiling warmly at Sam. He was such a good friend, literally dropping everything he'd been doing today to come help me.

Sam smiled quickly back at me and then nodded at Eric, then Andy and Bud. "Night."

"Night," Andy and Bud replied, at almost the exact same time.

"Shif—Merlotte," Eric called out, catching himself at the last minute. Sam turned around and looked at him, seeming as curious as I was. Eric took a deep breath and continued, "I wanted to thank you for your service tonight. You have done me a favor I won't soon forget."

"Alright," Sam said after a moment. "Alright. Well, night all. Again." And then he walked over to his car and drove away, everyone watching his headlights disappear into the night.

Bud coughed obviously. Andy shuffled his feet. Eric and I glanced at each other.

"Okay then, I guess we'll be getting out of your hair then and let you guys get your sheriff and detective on," I said hastily, nodding at Eric. I felt like part of the couple overstaying their welcome at another couple's dinner party.

He got the memo. "Yes. And thank you for heeling so quickly whenever I called," Eric said.

I knew he wasn't the biggest fan of the two guys, and I wasn't either.

But still.

I elbowed Eric in the ribs and he shot me a look. I shot him one back, even going so far as to raise one eyebrow, and then the other. After a tense moment he (reluctantly) added, "I appreciate your loyalty and devotion to the citizens of Bon Temps … especially when that citizen is Sookie."

Much better. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I smiled up at him in return.

Andy and Bud shared a quick grin and thanked Eric. I think Andy might have wanted to say more, but then we heard the police siren and saw a lot of blue-and-red lights coming our way, so Eric took my hand and led me to Arlene's backyard.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't walk home tonight Eric. I just can't," I said once we were away from the commotion.

"You're forgetting I can fly, or run through the woods," Eric replied, a small smile on his face.

"Right," I said, feeling my hair color. "Fly it is."

He scooped me up in his arms, vampire-in-sweats style. And as I hugged myself to him, I thought, '_who needs knights in shining armor, anyways? Wouldn't the shining armor be harder and more uncomfortable and less snuggable?'_

…

**No Franklin Mott this week. *be's a sad panda AND an Eeyore* **

**I'll be an even sadder panda/Eeyore hybrid if no one gets the Eeyore reference. JS.**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: Thank you again and again for the reviews/favorites/alerts. **

**And thanks to chiisai-kitty for beta-ing this so quickly! (and perfectly). Any leftover mistakes are mine. Also, thanks to CH for her characters!**

...

"Eric, where are we going?" I asked once I thought of it.

"I thought I'd take you back to my house. You could spend the night and day there. You would be safe."

"But what about Tina?" I asked, the image of her body stuffed on the fan burned, as it always will be now, in my consciousness.

"I've arranged for a sort of cleaners, so to speak, to wipe down your house and make it like it was before Rene visited," he replied matter-of-factly.

He wasn't getting it. "Eric, what about Tina's body?"

Eric gave me a weird look. " … That's what the cleaners are for."

He ..._still_ wasn't getting it. "Eric, what about the disposal of Tina's body?"

"I do not understand the question and will not be able to answer it sufficiently until I do," he said, intensifying the weird look by about a hundred thousand percent.

"Take me home."

"What?"

"Take me home, Eric," I repeated impatiently.

"I told you, everything's taken care of. That's why you don't need to go home," he said.

Eric had no clue what the hell I was talking about. The man's been speaking English since it was even created—probably, I don't even know when English was created, or how it even happened—and he didn't understand what I was saying.

"No. I want to bury Tina. At the very least. Your special cleaners can clean up her blood, or whatever they do. I don't care about that. I just want to bury my cat."

Eric stopped flying then, and we were hovering. I was suddenly reminded of those rides you see at fairs, the ones where your feet dangle from your seats and your little row of seats is brought to the tippy-top of the column, and then you're suddenly dropped so it feels like you're in free-fall. I knew Eric would never do that to me, but I couldn't help thinking about the similarities.

Without saying anything, he changed direction and resumed flying to my house, presumably. Satisfied, I found a comfortable nook in his arms and relaxed for the first time tonight. After some time, I could see the little dots that I assumed were gravestones, and soon we were landing on the grass in front of my house.

Eric bent over so I could stand up, and I thanked him. Together we walked in through the front doors, and when I leaned against the wall to take my shoes off, Eric hesitated only for a few seconds before he did the same.

Once we were both barefoot I remembered, "Hey, I never did get my rifle back."

"I'm sure you will, sometime soon. There really is no need for the police to hold onto it, since Rene confessed to everything," Eric said, a guiding hand on the small of my back as we walked towards the kitchen.

There was a crew of shifters of some kind, but none that I recognized, in the kitchen—they were all female, and they were all Latino. Each one was wearing elbow-length rubber gloves, and each one was vampire-cleaning. I was suddenly very envious of how fast they could clean, since they were using their supernatural speed.

Eric surveyed the room and evidently found everything to his liking. "Good. Very good. Where is the body?"

They all stopped their work, and the woman closest to us stood and replied, "We put it in a cardboard box, Mr. Northman. It's on the back porch."

Eric nodded. "Carry on," he said, and they continued cleaning. To me he said, "Come," and we both made our way to the back porch. The box was there like the vampire said it would be.

"I have a couple shovels in the shed," I said, staring at the box but making no move to inspect it or open it.

"Do you have an idea of where you're going to bury Tina?" Eric asked, the hand now around my waist, bringing me closer to him.

"Not really. A couple times I found her clawing at a certain tree, the tall one over there. I guess that would be the place," I said wearily. When you have a pet, you never stop and think about what you're going to do with it once it's dead. Well, I guess you do the same with your friends, but whatever. With Gran, she had her spot mapped out in the Stackhouse section of the cemetery for years; ever since her husband died, I think, because she had to change her will and she wanted to be buried next to him. With Tina, I could only hope she'd appreciate the location of her grave as much as I knew Gran would have.

"I'll bring the box to that tree while you fetch the shovels," Eric replied, letting go of me and taking the few steps he needed to get close enough to the box to pick it up. Crouching down, he looked over his shoulder at me where I was still standing. "Sookie, did you hear me?"

"Yeppers," I said automatically. I blushed a little, and Eric smiled softly.

"There she is," he murmured to himself before he turned and started walking over to the tree. He looked back at me once he was down the stairs, and that was enough to rouse me into going over to the shed.

Once I got the shovels, I brought them over to the tree. Eric had placed the box on the ground in front of exactly where I had found Tina clawing at the tree.

"How did you know that was the spot?" I asked as I approached him.

He wordlessly tapped his nose twice and held out a hand for the shovel. It didn't take long to dig out a hole big enough for the box, but neither of us spoke the whole time. The silence was as comforting as it could be, considering we were burying my cat.

The box looked so small sitting in that ditch, and I couldn't believe Tina was inside of it. I was tempted to open the box just to see, but I didn't want to see the body. Plus, I was sure Eric would have been able to tell if Tina actually was in the box, and he would have told me if she wasn't.

" … People normally talk at funerals, right?" Eric asked after a really long time where there was no talking, just staring.

"Uh-huh," I hummed, not even opening my mouth. That was all he was getting from me.

Standing here, in front of an open grave, I was painfully reminded of Gran's funeral. Tina had been my Gran, and not just because both of them had been roommates that died inside the house. Though Tina could never tell me what her day was like, as Gran liked to do, or hold a conversation with me, I loved them both dearly, and I missed them. I missed Tina much more than I thought I would, considering I had seen her hours ago. I knew that feeling would only increase over time, like it had with Gran.

I don't know when or how, but I was holding hands with Eric. Though there were already silent tears streaming down my cheeks, washing away any leftover evidence of Tina's blood that was still on me, his small, simple gesture made me tear up even more. I'm sure that wasn't his intention, but that's what his kindness did.

Eric cleared his throat, but I didn't turn to look at him. However, I did when he started saying, "I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, because I've never been to a funeral for a cat, but … Tina was a fine feline. I liked her, a lot, actually, and I can only hope she liked me."

"She did," I suddenly interrupted, nodding affirmatively at Eric. "I know she did."

His only response was to nod back at me.

Somehow, Eric's impromptu speech helped me find my voice. "Tina did that," I said suddenly. I sounded a little shaky, but I continued, "She didn't meet a lot of people, but she formed a mutual friendship with every human she encountered. She was brave like that. People can have cat-like reflexes, but they should hope to acquire cat-like bravery, like Tina. From curling up next to a vampire to facing a serial killer, Tina demonstrated many different kinds of bravery throughout her short yet meaningful life. I'm glad to have been a part of her life, and I'm honored that she was part of mine."

I paused. " _Is_ part of mine."

With that, I crossed myself and then picked up my shovel from where I had dumped it on the ground. After a couple of seconds, Eric started using his shovel, and the makeshift grave was filled in no time. Eric even managed to tear off a branch from the tree and make a small wreath, which he placed on the mound.

Even though both of our hands were dirty, I laced my fingers through his as we walked back to the house.

The cleaners were gone once I led Eric into the kitchen. The blood and gore were gone too.

"Wow," I marveled, wiping the stainless countertop. "They did a really good job."

Eric didn't say anything, but I could tell by the relaxed way he was holding himself that he was pleased with the cleaners too.

"If I wrote them a thank-you note, would you make sure they got it?" I asked once I was done inspecting. From what I could see through the hallway leading to the living room, the kitchen wasn't the only place they cleaned.

"Of course," Eric said. "I'll mail it with the check."

"Thank you for that, too," I said, walking over to him and giving him a big hug. I held him tight, close to me, as I continued in a softer voice, "Not just for paying, but for thinking of it too. I thought for sure I'd have to spend the whole night mopping up my cat's blood."

"No one should have to do that," he replied soberly. "And no one should have to go through what you had to today. I wish I could glamour you, like I can with anyone else. But you'll have to be brave."

"Like Tina was."

"Like Tina was," he repeated as I stepped out of his embrace.

"I think I'm gonna go shower now," I said finally. "Do you want me to throw in your clothes with, well, your clothes that I'm going to go wash?"

"No, thank you. I'll just change at home."

What? That stopped me in my tracks. "At home?"

"Correct," Eric answered, leaning against the counter top. "You're going to have a shower, and then I'm taking you to my home."

"No," I said, so quickly Eric stared at me.

"No?" he repeated dumbly.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

I blushed. "Sorry. No, I'm not going to your home. I'm staying here."

"But why?" he asked. "Tina was murdered here a few hours ago."

"And Gran died here a few months ago, and here we are."

"I'm not saying you're going to stay at my house forever. I'm just saying you're going to be staying at my house tonight."

"I appreciate the offer, like I appreciate everything else you've done for me tonight," I said carefully, "but I want to stay here. And I'm going to. "

"I don't understand," Eric said, furrowing his brows.

I sighed, and tried to convert my gut-feeling into plain old English. It took sometime before I said, "Eric, if I don't stay in my house tonight, then Rene wins."

He looked confused, and it translated into the way he said, "Rene lost. He lost, Sookie. He got caught, and now he's going to jail. I don't think he wins anything—I think he loses everything. And if you sleep over at a vampire's house, then he really loses, don't you think?"

I got what he was saying, but I wasn't having any of it. "I know, I know. But, it's just a thing for me. If I don't sleep here, then it's like he scared me into sleeping somewhere else."

"Sookie, it's not like he's ever going to know where you slept tonight," Eric said rationally.

I crossed my arms. "Look, Eric, you can sleep here, if you want. My house is always going to be open to you; you don't even have to ask. And, yeah, someday, I'd like to go to your house for the night and see where you live. But that's just not gonna happen tonight. Got it?"

Eric eventually nodded, though it took a while for him to do something other than stare at me. "Then I'd like to sleep here tonight, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. And I'm pretty sure you have some clean clothes upstairs. I'll do the wash tomorrow." He didn't say anything, but he smiled. "Right. So, uh, yeah. I'm gonna go shower now," I said awkwardly.

My shower was so long I ran out of hot water—and body wash. No matter how hard or long I scrubbed, I still felt yucky. But finally I was done and toweling off when Eric knocked loudly on the door—three quick raps—and yelled "Is everything okay in there, Sookie?"

My head snapped up, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah. All good."

"You've been in there for forty-five minutes," he stated, trailing off at the end.

"I was just trying to get all the stuff off me. It didn't feel right," I explained.

With one final glance in the mirror, I opened the door; Eric had been leaning one side of his body against the frame, one hand stretched over his head, holding on to the dop of the door frfame. He didn't look surprised when I walked out, until he saw that I was only wearing a towel.

"Seriously. All good," I said breezily as I brushed past him into the bedroom.

Once I was changed into my nightgown, I peeked my head out of the door and saw he was still in the hallway, only now he was leaning his back against the wall by the bathroom door.

"I think I'm gonna try and get some sleep," I said once he looked over at me.

"Good. You should; it's been a long and trying day for you. May I use your shower now?" he asked.

"You don't even have to ask. But for the record, yes. I'm going to go read in my room."

He nodded and went into the bathroom, his clean clothes under one arm. I tried to read, but I was too distracted with my thoughts to pay attention.

Finally the water stopped, and a couple minutes later Eric opened the door and came in the room, his silhouette outlined from the light in the hallway.

"Hey," I said softly.

"Hey," the shadow that was Eric said back to me.

"Eric, can you just … hold me, until I fall asleep? God, this sounds so dorky, but I just really want to be held tonight."

"Sure," he replied, walking over.

I got under the covers then, with Eric doing the same. I turned on my side so he could spoon me, and he did, his arm wrapped protectively over my waist, even though there was a layer of blanket in between. Eric was good at everything he did, including snuggling and always doing what I needed him to do whether I asked him or not. He was perfect like that.

Just as I was finally able to shut down my mind and drift off to sleep, I heard him whisper, "I'm sorry."

I blinked a couple times, just to wake myself up so I could be sure he actually said that and I wasn't imagining things.

"A-what-a?" I asked drowsily.

"I said, I'm sorry." He took in a deep breath; I could feel it, the way his chest moved against my back. "I'm sorry. If it weren't for me, Tina would still be alive. She was, as you were too, targeted because of me." He whispered it even softer now, into my hair. "I'm sorry … I'm sorry."

I turned around to face him but he didn't move, so his hand was now on my ass instead of my hips. I didn't have a problem with that and evidently he didn't either.

"Don't you go thinking like that, Eric," I whispered back to him. Through the hazy blackness of the room I could see that his eyes widened as he looked at me, but he didn't say anything.

I continued, "If it weren't for you, Rene would have killed some other girl with vampire bites on her. And he probably would have kept killing girls who weren't fortunate to have a vampire that actually cared for them. If it weren't for you, and Tina, Rene wouldn't have been caught. You might not have been able to save Tina's life, but I know for a fact you saved mine tonight, in addition to the lives of other girls. So don't you dare go thinking like that, you hear me?"

"I hear you," Eric murmured back a couple moments later, sounding a little stunned.

"Good."

I didn't move to roll back to my sleepy position, content to remain where I was. Maybe it was because I was so tired it didn't matter, or maybe it was because Eric was next to me. All I know is, I slept much better than you'd think a person would after seeing three dead bodies in one day.

...

**So, how 'bout that episode last night, huh? I'm open to discussion, as always, but MY FRANKLIN! MY FRANKLIN! *sobs* There's a little stubborn part of me that's hanging on to the hope that Franklin's just really, really injured, and not actually dead. Because Talbot just complained about having to clean Franklin's brains off the sheets, not having to dispose of the body like he did with the werewolves. But if you're interested to get a little snapshot into my life when it comes to the fuckery that is Franklin Mott's storyline, here ya go:**

**http: / afalcone10. tumblr. com/post/927205063/interestingly-enough-this-was-my-exact-reaction **

**(or if you're feeling lazy, the link to my tumblr is in my profile, so you'd just click on that and get to the same page).**

_OOOOOOOOOOH and next chapter will have a flash-forward. But to when? To where? And to what? MUAHAHAHAHA._


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry about the little wait and lack of review replies. Real life has been as hectic as ever, so thanks for being patient with me.  
**

**Thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty (who's a winner-winner-chicken-dinner :P) and for CH for giving me all these characters to obsess over.**

…

When I woke up the next morning and came downstairs to find Jason in my living room, I knew I'd need a big cup of coffee.

That notion was doubled when, as soon as he heard me walk down the stairs, he shot out of his seat so fast you'd think the sofa was on fire.

"SOOKIE!" he cried out, running over to me and placing a hand on each of my shoulders. "You're alright! You're really alright!" Jason hugged me then, so hard I felt it hard to breathe, and not because he was acting like the big brother I'd always wanted him to be. "Thank God, you're really alright!"

"Yes, Jason, I'm fine. Honestly," I wheezed. That just made him squeeze that much harder, like a child who was playing a little too roughly with the new family dog but didn't know any better. "Jason, enough! You're hurting me!"

He instantly stopped and literally jumped a step back, his eyes running over for any visible injuries. "Oh, sorry Sook. It's just that, Andy called this morning and told me what happened, and I came over as soon as I could. I checked on you sleeping this morning, but I just needed to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. Just a little shook up, but I'm fine, considering," I swallowed uneasily, "what could have happened."

That's when Jason made the switch I'd knew he'd take all along—the switch to overprotective big brother. His eyes got squinty and he put his hands on his hips. "Andy said something 'bout a vampire-boyfriend you got that was the big hero from last night."

I inhaled deeply, prepping myself for the talk I had known would come sooner or later with Jason. If he was this pissed knowing I had a "vampire-boyfriend," how pissed would he be once he found out it was the same vampire that had sex with his girlfriend?

It would have been nice to be having this conversation more than three minutes after I just woke up.

"His name is Eric," I explained.

"Eric. Eric the vampire," Jason repeated slowly.

"Yeah."

"_Eric?_"

"_Yeah_."

"C'mon, Sook, you couldn't go for the vampire named Esteban or Pierre or something? Dracula too good for you?" Jason laughed.

I laughed too, in relief, even closing my eyes briefly as I reveled in how well Jason was taking this. I guessed Dawn had never revealed the name of the vampire she was acquainted with.

Apparently that moment was too soon, as Jason asked, "So … how did you meet this vamp anyway? I mean, you don't do much except work at Merlotte's and tan outside. No offense."

"Um … long story, I guess? He was, ah, out for a walk one night, and we just kinda … happened."

"Huh. Why is this the first time I'm hearing about a boyfriend, and a vampire one at that? I need to meet this guy, give him a little talk."

"Don't you think that's kind of the reason _why_ I've been waiting to tell you about him?" I asked pointedly.

Jason shrugged his shoulders and scratched his head, but I knew he picked up on what I was saying. "So?" he said stubbornly.

"He's here, now," I offered.

Jason looked around the room wildly, looking at all the corners for Eric. I had to stifle a giggle as I added, "In this house, Jason, not in this room. He's resting—it is day, you know. Hey, why aren't you at work?"

"Took the day off when I heard about what happened to my baby sis. So, what does Eric do for a living?"

I sucked in some air. This was the moment of truth. I hoped Jason would be somewhat okay hearing what I would be telling him, since he had seemed to accept my having a vampire boyfriend relatively well. But … I had to tell him. I had to tell him Eric was the vampire Dawn had sex with; I had to tell him Eric owned the nightclub Dawn went to, causing her breakup with Jason.

I took a deep breath. I could do this. I could do this. "Eric owns a nightclub in Shreveport, called Fangtasia," I said, watching Jason for his reaction. And damn, it wasn't good.

"_Fangtasia _Fangtasia? Like, Dawn's Fangtasia?" he asked, putting his hands behind his head. His eyes had gotten really big, and his voice a lot higher as he asked those questions.

I bit my lip, nodding.

"Jesus Christ, Sookie! And you knew this, the whole time? 'Bout how he fucked Dawn and drank her blood?"

I nodded again as I watched him connect the dots.

"He drink your blood? He fuck you?"

"Jason, don't talk like that in Gran's house. And yes to both. I've drank his blood too," I said sharply, figuring if we were going to have this conversation, we might as well have all of it.

That threw Jason off his game. "We can do that?"

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't we be able to?" I said, going for nonchalantly and ending up a little squeaky.

"I dunno … you just never see that happening in the movies and stuff."

"Yeah, because all those movies about vampires, they're _horror _movies. Like, where the vampires mistreat and kill and feed on humans because they don't care about them. And Eric's not like that … not with me. He respects my decisions and listens to me. He pays attention to _everything _I say. We're equals in this relationship, not master/slave or vampire/human," I pleadingly replied, wanting Jason to understand what I was saying.

He just stared at me, mouth open. I read his thoughts and saw that he thought that Eric did that hypnotizing thing he'd heard vampires could do, and that I was brainwashed or something.

"No, Jason, Eric didn't brainwash me—although the proper term is 'glamour'. I can't be glamoured. And I can't read his mind. You know how much of a relief that is to me?"

Jason pursed his lips, but I could read that he was thinking things over. When I talked about how I couldn't read Eric's mind, Jason's eyes widened comically and he frantically started thinking, _'Get outta my head! Get outta my head! Okay, okay, I get it! It's a big deal that you can't read his mind, so quit reading mine!'_

Smiling smugly, I said, "Yeah, so Eric and me, we don't have the usual relationship most women have with male vampires. I'm not a fangbanger, and we both know that. You should know that too. You'll see when you meet him. He's good to me, Jason. And he saved my life last night, as you know."

Jason closed his mouth now, but now it was in a frowny straight line. I didn't know which position was better. I desperately wanted to read his mind, but I resisted the temptation, even though he wouldn't be able to tell I was reading his mind or not.

Even so, I could tell he was wavering. All I needed to do was sway him my way. I softly explained, "He only had sex with Dawn that one time, wayyy before you even started thinking about her. And when she went to his club that night, he didn't have sex with her then. He just asked her about me, that's all."

"Why'd he do that?" Jason asked confusedly, and I didn't blame him.

I looked at the floor, and then I looked straight at Jason as I told him about the real way Eric and I had met. I only went up all the way through the witch war and Eric getting his memories back, and how we had to start over from scratch. I did tell him about Bill—but just that Eric had saved me from another vampire who we thought might want to kidnap me for his own crazy reasons. I held off on telling him about Hadley and our supposed fairy heritage, because I didn't know if I should—I really wanted to, though. Once I went over it with Eric and asked his opinion on it, then maybe I'd tell Jason.

Even without the fairy stuff, Jason was visibly overwhelmed with everything I had just told him. He was now sitting on the couch, elbows on knees, and he looked like he'd been hit over the head with a hammer. I sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his back soothingly.

Once Jason was able to talk, he asked, in a strangled voice, "And Eric was there for you for all of that?"

"Yeah, he was," I murmured. Whenever I thought about that, I felt a little dumbfounded too.

"If he can help you like that, and look out for you like that … he's doing a better job of protecting you than your only family," Jason said shakily. "Jesus Christ, Rene was _my _friend! My best good friend! I worked with him, every day! And all this time, here he was killing or trying to kill everyone that was close to me … except your cat, who I never really met. Sorry. But, Eric had never even seen or heard about Rene, and he was still able to catch him and protect you!"

"Jason, none of us knew about Rene. Don't be so hard on yourself," I said, patting his arm affectionately.

He shook his head. "But still … I, well … he can't be too bad, Eric, if he's kept you alive all this time even though there seems to have been a lot of opportunities for him, or someone else, to kill you."

I scowled. Eric wasn't "too bad" for a lot of reasons, but I guess Jason's backhanded compliment was one of them.

"I still want to meet him," he said after a moment.

"You will. He'll be up after sunset. You can eat dinner with us here, if you like."

Jason turned to look at me, horrified. "What's he gonna be eating?"

I smiled a little at his reaction. "Relax, I have some True Bloods here he can work on while we eat."

Jason nodded. "Good … Sookie?

"Yes?"

"He _really _didn't have sex with Dawn that night she went to him?"

"No."

He nodded again, thinking to himself … and only to himself. Once he was done, he sat up a little straighter and asked, "Got any breakfast food?"

I smiled and patted him on the head before I went to the kitchen. The first thing I did was start making a pot of coffee.

The second thing I did was check my voicemail. A lot of people had called—Andy, telling me Rene had been moved to a state prison and was already planning on pleading guilty to four counts of first-degree murder and one count of attempted murder, on top of a lot of other crimes; Sam, asking me to call him back when I got this and that I could have the rest of the week off; my old friend Tara Thornton, checking in on me.

The worst one to hear was Arlene's message—and not just because I could barely make through her sobs and gasps to understand what she was saying. From what I could understand … Rene's life wasn't the only life that was ruined last night. My heart went out to Arlene, but I wasn't ready to talk to her yet.

Jason came in the kitchen then and helped himself to a cup of coffee. Just when I was going to say something about him getting me a cup, he went ahead and did that without having to be asked. I didn't say anything about it, but I loved Jason more in that instant. It wasn't the only (surprisingly) mature thing he'd done today.

After I fixed us both breakfast, Jason went to work on fixing up my house. He managed to get rid of the creak on the third step, check all of the fire alarms and carbon monoxide detectors, and teach me how to use the clicker on the television to record shows. He was trying his darndest to be a good older brother, and even though it was a little too late, I appreciated it all the same.

Jason sat next to me when Andy and Bud dropped off my rifle and debriefed me on Rene. Though I was sure Eric wouldn't agree with me, I told them I didn't want to know anything about him, unless he escaped or came out on parole, both things the two men assured me wouldn't happen, ever. That was all I needed to know; I just wanted to move on from here and be done with Rene. If Eric wanted to be informed of Rene's activities, that was his deal. He knew how to use a phone.

It wasn't until Andy and Bud left that people started coming over with casseroles and muffins and baked goods—and prying ears wanting to hear a first-hand recap of last night, and what it's like to date a vampire. What was funny was that no one asked me about Tina or where she was buried; it seemed that all they wanted to know about was Eric. I stood there and thanked them and told them what happened, or I did until Maxine Fortenberry asked me where he bit me, since she didn't see any marks on my neck. Then I started making Jason answer the door and tell people that I was upstairs resting and wasn't fit to see anyone—unless it was Arlene, because I wanted to talk to her. I felt bad making him do all that, but he didn't seem to mind.

I was in the kitchen heating up Jackie LaFleur's homemade macaroni and cheese for Jason and I to eat for lunch when the doorbell rang and Jason hollered, "Sook, it's Arlene."

I forgot all about the timer on the microwave as I ran over to the front door. Arlene was there holding the biggest bouquet of flowers, one of every color, it seemed. But as soon as she saw me, she dropped the flowers on the floor and came over and hugged me tightly, almost as tightly as Jason had earlier.

She was a mess. Arlene usually had her fiery red hair teased and curled to perfection, and her makeup as colorful as the kinds you see in magazines but never actually wear in real life ... but here she was with raggedy hair and a mismatched shirt and PJ shorts and no makeup whatsoever. She was crying and mumbling incoherently into my shoulder but I was able to get the drift—she had no idea Rene was the murderer, she had no idea he killed his sister, she was so, so sorry, she wouldn't blame me if I didn't forgive her and I never spoke to her again. Of course, that was only about a third of what she said; I really had a hard time figuring out what she was saying.

"Of course I forgive you, honey. Not that there's much to forgive—how were you to know? Rene deceived all of us," I said soothingly, patting her back and shooting Jason a look over her shoulder. He was gaping at Arlene, no doubt a little scared and astonished that a woman could cry that loudly for so long, but as soon as he saw me he put his hands in the air—in the kind of "don't shoot!" way suspects do on TV when someone's pointing a gun at them—and took off for the kitchen to eat lunch. As he walked past me I managed to kick him in the shin; I didn't give him that look because I wanted him to leave, I gave that look because I wanted him to make Arlene leave. He got that now, I made sure of it.

"I just have to say, you look real pretty today, Arlene," Jason tried, gently pulling Arlene out of my grasp and leading her towards the door. She let him, crying out, "I didn't know … I just didn't know!"

"Yeah, me neither," Jason said under his breath once she was on the porch and he shut the door. He mumbled something under his breath once he locked it, but I didn't care to find out what it was.

"That was something, huh?" I asked weakly.

"Yeah-huh. Can we have that mac and cheese now?"

After a quick lunch, Jason went back to intercepting people and dishes while I went about cleaning the house. Normally I liked to bake when I was stressed, but that seemed just plain silly considering all of the food and goodies people kept giving me. So now I moved to cleaning, the next best thing I could do. I spent the whole afternoon vacuuming and washing and scrubbing and doing laundry, and it was the best thing I could have done.

Around five Jason left to go home and get cleaned up to meet Eric; while he did that, I got in the shower and got myself cleaned up too. I put on a nice blouse and a pair of jeans, and laid out Eric's clean clothes from last night for him to wear. Based on his past pushing to meet Jason, I knew he would probably just as anxious about the forthcoming meeting as my brother. But neither of them was as anxious as me.

What if Eric didn't like Jason? I didn't care about whether or not Jason would like Eric—he already seemed to be warming up to the ideas of him, but that was besides the point since Jason wasn't that involved in my life. But Eric … Eric was very much involved in my life, and I wanted it to stay that way.

I timed it so I was reading in my bed when the sunset, and a few minutes later I heard the telltale creaking of Eric lifting the hatch up, and I looked up to watch him lift himself out from under the floor. He bent over to close the hatch, and I had to bite my lip. His butt looked every bit as nice as I remembered it.

He smiled and climbed on the bed next to me. "What did I miss today?" he asked softly.

I reached over and cupped his face with mine as I kissed him on the lips. "Everything I would have liked to miss," I replied.

"Which is?" he asked, raising both eyebrows expectantly.

I sighed and told him everything that had happened today; though he scoffed at the nosey neighbors, he seemed most interested in meeting Jason. Eric made me retell everything Jason had said about him, and I did. He thought we should wait to tell Jason about the fairies, since he had just been introduced to the concept of my vampire boyfriend, and I agreed. It didn't escape either of us, the way Eric's face first lit up when I told him what Jason said of my "vampire boyfriend."

After that, Eric wanted to see what people brought over, so he changed into his clean clothes and then we headed to the kitchen, where I showed him all of the plates and dishes filled with food. He couldn't believe that it was something people just did.

"Do humans believe lasagna helps the recently deceased move on to the afterlife?" Eric asked, gazing distrustfully at the plates and pans of lasagna.

"Nope."

" … Do humans believe lasagna helps with the grief?" he tried again.

"Uh, nope. People just bring over lasagna, or actually any kind of food, to show that they're thinking of me, and they make the food so I don't have to worry about it," I explained.

"Oh," he said. After a beat he said, "I liked my reasons better."

I burst out laughing, but stopped when Eric suddenly stood up straight. "Your brother is here," he said, watching a pair of headlights drive by my house on the way to the back porch.

"Yeah. Probably."

Right after that, Jason walked in through the back porch door, not even bothering to knock. He stopped mid-stride once he saw that Eric and I were standing in the kitchen watching him.

"So. You must be Eric," he said finally, after he gave Eric a long once-over.

"Yes. And you must be Jason," Eric replied, scoping Jason out but not sounding anywhere near as anxious as him.

"Yeah-huh." Jason held out his hand for Eric, and after a beat Eric took it.

"So, Jase, what're ya hungry for?" I asked, hoping that if we all sat down it'd be less tense. Besides, Jason always was friendlier on a full stomach—or after a couple of beers.

The mention of food made him snap out of his trance, and he had been so focused on Eric that it almost seemed as though Eric was glamouring him—but I knew that wasn't true. "Rosemary Tompkin's chicken dinner looks real good," he said, pointing at the roasted chicken.

"Sure. I'll pop it in the oven right now. Why don't you two get settled in the living room, maybe watch some TV or something?" I suggested, wanting Jason and Eric to get some one-on-one time.

Jason shrugged his shoulders and trudged past me into the living room; he was always up for watching TV, and I was sure there was some sort of sports game on tonight. Eric shot me a look conveying that he knew exactly what I was doing, but he followed Jason into the room. A few seconds later and I heard the sounds of TV, and I relaxed a little.

I took my time cooking the chicken and making us a salad—mostly because I couldn't hear Eric and Jason talking. I mean, I could hear whoever was on the TV talking about touchdowns and flags and other football stuff, but I couldn't hear Eric and Jason.

Feeling a little nervous, I stopped moving around and just stood still. I had to wait a bit, but finally I heard a loud, "Whoa!" coming from Jason, and there was some hand-clapping—or dare I say, high-fiving?

Excited, I walked into the dining room to start with the place mats and silverware, and saw Jason and Eric sitting on the couch, with their feet resting on the coffee table.

"What're you guys watching?" I asked, coming over and half-sitting/half-standing on the arm of the couch closest to Eric. There was a football game on now, showing an instant replay of some guy getting tackled by another guy, all in mid-air.

"Oh, it's even more excellent the second time around!" Eric said excitedly, a huge smile lighting up his face.

I hit Eric on the shoulder. "Hey! It's not excellent! The paramedics are on the field now! He's really hurt," I scolded.

"Well, duh, of course he is. I mean, the only way you'd be able to walk away from that kind of hit is if you had super-hero strength or something," Jason said matter-of-factly.

After a beat Eric and Jason looked at each other, and then the two of them stood up and all but ran to the front door, Jason bumping into Eric's back in his haste.

I didn't follow them outside, but through the window I could see Jason charging at Eric, and I quickly turned away. I knew there was a better chance of Jason getting hurt instead of Eric, who was supposed to be the person currently being carried off the football field in a stretcher, but I still worried a little.

Oh hell, who was I kidding? I was glad they were getting along. Yeah, it took a little while for them to get it started, but they seemed to be gelling now—based on Jason's whoops I could hear from outside.

_Boys_.

The more I thought about it, the more I liked it. After all, this was the perfect way for Jason to take out any aggression he had on Eric, and he was doing it while they were bonding. Or, bonding as much as you could while trying to tackle someone. And they were doing it together, without being forced to hang out. Worked for me.

Once the chicken and Eric's True Blood was properly heated and everything else was all set, I went on the front porch and called out, "Dinner's ready," all the while feeling oddly domestic.

Dinner was a little more subdued. I was sitting at the head of the table, with Eric and Jason sitting across from each other. Jason was excitedly talking about how cool it would be if there was a vampire football league, or some sort of Vampire Olympics … and Eric was actually agreeing with him. I'm sure he was thinking about how it'd be another opportunity for humans to see that vampires were capable of integrating themselves into society.

After the conversation died down, Jason set down his fork and quietly asked, "Was that how you got Rene—your vampire strength?"

I looked over at Eric, who wiped his mouth with a napkin before replying, "Well, yes, but not in the way you're thinking. I followed his scent with my vampire sense of smell. And though I may have lifted him in the air by his jacket and held him against the wall … I didn't exactly injure him."

"Why the fuck not? He was my best friend, and now I just want to murder his face!" Jason exclaimed angrily, looking down at the table.

"I didn't say it was easy, not injuring him," Eric replied, causing Jason to chuckle a little. "But, I knew Sookie wouldn't have wanted that. And I'm sure that solitary confinement, perhaps even ending in the death penalty after many years of waiting, is more torturous than a punch in the face, even if it's done by a vampire."

Jason hmmphed, but I agreed with Eric. Plus, he was right, as he always was, about what I wanted. He just got me like that.

Jason looked down at his watch and said, "I'm supposed to meet Hoyt for a beer at Merlotte's soon; he ain't doing too good with Rene's exposure neither. Thanks for dinner, Sook, even though you didn't exactly make it."

"Um, thanks," I said, bristling a little. But I knew Jason didn't mean anything by it. "You should take some food home with you; goodness knows it'll take me months to eat all by myself."

He nodded. "I'll swing by tomorrow to get that, but right now I'ma go get me a piece of Mrs. Fortenberry's chocolate cake. You want, Sook?"

"Sure, thanks," I replied breezily, a little pleased and surprised by Jason's asking.

"Cool. Eric, want me to get you another True Blood while I'm in there?"

Eric exchanged a look with me before turning to Jason and politely replying, "Yes, that would be great."

As soon as Jason left the room he raised an eyebrow at me. "Huh."

"See? That went well," I whispered, leaning over and rubbing Eric's arm.

"Much better than I anticipated," he replied.

"I know, right? Who'da thunk?"

We smiled at each other, and then we heard the ding of the microwave, signaling Jason would be coming back in soon. Eric and I pulled away and started talking about the weather as Jason entered, balancing Eric's True Blood and two plates of cake.

"Here ya go, bro," he said, putting the bottle in front of Eric. He slid the cake in front of me without saying anything, and as soon as he got back to his seat he started shoveling cake in his mouth, finishing the whole slice before Eric took two sips of his drink.

"Alright, I'm gonna be going then," he said, pushing his seat back to stand up. Eric and I rose with him.

Jason walked over and gave me a big hug. "I like him, Sook, even though I know I shouldn't," he whispered in my ear. I didn't know if he meant for Eric to hear him or not, but either way I could see Eric's shit-eating grin over Jason's head.

"Me too," I whispered back, watching Eric's face become more surprised than pleased. Let him think about what I'd just said.

Then Jason pulled away and offered Eric his hand. "Eric, it was nice to meet you. Maybe next time I'll break your back." His voice sounded pleasant enough, but I could tell there was a darker subtext to it.

I was horrified, but Eric laughed good-naturedly. "I look forward to seeing you try."

By now Jason hand brought Eric into one of those weird man-hug things, where it starts out as an innocent handshake and evolves into a one-armed hug. Eric was clearly surprised by it, and he shot me a glance over Jason's head. I shrugged my shoulders, and then Eric hesitantly patted Jason on the back.

I bit back a laugh. No matter what Jason called him, Eric certainly wasn't ready to be a "bro" anytime soon.

An hour later, Jason was gone, the dirty plates were gone, and Eric and I were sitting on the porch-swing and going over the events of the evening. Neither of us could believe how well Jason had behaved, even though Eric said he was initially hostile, when the two of them started watching TV. He refused to elaborate, however, no matter how many times I asked.

"It's not my story to tell," he kept saying, to my frustration. "You should ask Jason."

Eventually I gave up, and we just sat in a comfortable silence. It reminded me of what Amnesia Eric and I used to do … and here I was doing the exact same thing with Not-Amnesia Eric. The lines between the two were becoming more and more blurred with the more time I spent with Eric.

"We used to do this all the time when … you know," I said suddenly.

"Yes, you mentioned that," he replied, "along with the other _activities_ you said we used to do _all the time_ too." He turned to look at me, and I met his gaze.

Based on the raised eyebrow and the heat in his eyes, he was talking about the "activities" I hadn't tried yet with this Eric. I swallowed hard.

"I know. It's just … I'm not sure if I'm ready for that yet. I'm adjusting to you, still. But … I know the more time I spend with you, the more ready I feel," I said honestly, looking at him the whole time.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said solemnly. After a beat, he added, "Especially because I'm always more than ready, in case you were wondering."

I snorted. "Yeah, got that."

"Sookie, I'm serious."

"I know you are, Eric. You're just gonna have to wait a little bit for me to catch up."

"That's not a problem," he said easily. "I know that day will come. Soon, too. Of that, I am sure."

He was more right than he realized, but I didn't say anything.

His phone rang, and I jumped a little at the sudden sound. He dug it out of his pocket and looked at the screen for a second before he shook his head and muttered, "Fuck a zombie."

I snorted. "_Fuck a zombie?_"

He grinned sheepishly. "It's something Pam has taken to saying. I guess it rubbed off on me."

"_Yeah, sure_," I teased. "Who texted you?"

"Do you remember that time we were driving, and I turned on that radio debate between Nan Flanagan and some reverend—Theodore Newlin, from the Fellowship of the Sun?"

"Yeah. Why?" I asked, wondering why he would bring that up.

"Pam just texted me to say that Nan's at Fangtasia. Apparently, she wants to see me."

He didn't look too happy about that. "And I take it that isn't really a good thing?"

"I'm not sure yet. I think she wants to talk to me about last night, about how I led the police to a serial killer. Knowing Nan—and the American Vampire League that she is the representative for—she'll want to schedule press conferences and interviews to show that vampires can cause more good than bad. I'm sure this would help with the impending vampire rights amendment that Newlin and every other Southern preacher is trying to prevent."

"Oh. You should probably get going then," I said, more enthusiastically than I felt.

"Probably." But he didn't move, and I didn't either. I don't know what he was looking at, but I was staring up at the night sky.

His phone rang a second time, and he didn't need to open it to know that it was Pam urging him to come quickly.

"I enjoyed this evening," he said solemnly, standing up. I started to stand up too, but he put a hand up. "You don't need to get up."

"It's nothing. Besides, if I don't stand up, then I can't do this," I murmured, straightening to give him a kiss. It started out gently, with Eric's lips pressed against mine. But the longer we were in contact, the less prudish and questioning and hesitant the kiss became. With all of the roaming hands and sucking and biting, you'd think we wouldn't be seeing each other for years, not just a couple of hours—or so I assumed.

"Good night," I said, once I remembered Eric had to be somewhere other than my front porch.

In response, Eric kissed me again, even more passionately—which I hadn't thought was possible. Jesus, he was a fantastic kisser. If he kept doing that to me, and making me feel this way, we'd be closer to doing "those activities" than he thought.

"Good night," I said again, dazedly seeing stars and not knowing if that was because of Eric or because we'd been kissing so hard for so long I kept forgetting I needed air.

"You already said that," Eric laughed, tracing my cheekbone with his thumb.

"Well, yeah, because the last time I said it we kissed afterwards," I said, blushing slightly.

He raised an eyebrow as he leaned forward to kiss me again. "Good night," he said finally. He started walking towards his car, looking over his shoulder at me as he went down the stairs. I was standing on the porch, watching him go. He waved goodbye to me once he turned the car on, and then he left.

I went back inside and finished reading my book. Still no word from Eric. Just as I was starting to get a little panicked, he called.

"Hello?" I answered quickly after the first ring.

"Sookie, it's Eric."

"Eric. Hey. Where are you?"

"We're leaving for Washington DC to meet with the board of the American Vampire League to strategize how to spread awareness about what I did," he said, not sounding entirely excited about that.

"Oh. Wow." I guessed Nan was with him, wherever that was, since he hadn't defined the "we" and I knew he would have if he was alone. I wondered if he had broken some sort of protocol, talking about Nan and the AVL. I hoped not.

"I don't know how long it will take, but I was told to plan to have Pam run Fangtasia for a while."

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. But I'm not going to be able to see you for a couple days, at the least. If there's any trouble, or if you need any help, Fangtasia will always be open to you. I'll text you Pam and Chow's cell phone numbers."

"Chow?"

"Yeah, I just got word that his hand is all healed. It's fortunate, since we needed a new bartender to replace Long Shadow."

"Oh. Good for Chow."

"Yes. So, I'll text you the numbers now, but our jet's getting ready to leave, so I have to hang up. I'll call you tomorrow night, after sunset."

"Sounds like a plan," I said.

"And Sookie?"

"Yes?"

"_Good night,_" he said silkily, sounding like sex. My oh my, if any two words could make me blush as much as I was now, I wouldn't have expected them to be "Good night."

I coughed. "Uh, um, yeah. Good night. Good night, Eric."

He laughed before hanging up.

…

**So … no flashforward this chapter. It didn't feel right to smush it in, since there already was a lot going on in this chapter. But it'll be in the next one, promise!**

**R.I.P. Franklin. **_**AGAIN**_**. ABalls REALLY needs to stop toying with my head. Like, NOW. **


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: AAAAAAAAAAND we're back.  
**

**Thanks to my super awesome beta chiisai-kitty for beta-ing this and chapter 42 and not (really :P) hating me when I sent them to her at the same time. **

**And as always, thanks to CH. I borrowed some of her descriptions with the interaction between the maenad because I think they're really good.  
**

…

_ **FIVE DAYS LATER**_

Five days later, and Eric_ still_ hadn't returned. I had no reason to worry—we'd spoken on the phone every day, I'd seen him do a number of interviews on a bunch of channels I didn't even know my television had, I'd went to the library to read online articles about him, and, hell, I'd even heard him speaking to a talk show host on the radio. But still … I missed him.

The night after he left, he called to say he negotiated that my name wouldn't be revealed or discussed, ever. When I asked if it was for my protection, he had paused; when I prodded, he had quietly said that it was for both of our protections and left it at that. And it seemed as though everyone honored it, so far—this Nan Flanagan, the AVL, Tom Brokaw, Larry King, David Letterman. Eric had assured me that Rene was prohibited from meeting with anyone, and also that the Bon Temps sheriff's department wouldn't divulge any information about me if they wanted Eric to cover the expenses for all renovations the thirty-year-old office building clearly needed. So any enterprising reporters would be shit outta luck.

My name was never splashed across the headlines or running on the bottom of a television channel—but Eric's name and face was everywhere: front page of the _New York Times_, cover of _Time _magazine—both of which ended up being the publications' highest-grossing issues ever—as well as talk shows, with some channels even going so far as to tape morning talk shows at night so Eric could be interviewed. He didn't like having to wear suits all of the time, but he knew Pam was having fun picking out his custom-made suits and using his credit card to Fed-Ex them to wherever he happened to be staying—Washington the first two nights, and New York City for the rest.

I didn't tell him the real reason why Pam was using his credit card—Eric's newfound fame was causing hundreds of people to flock to Fangtasia, and she didn't like having to accommodate even more annoying humans. But, as she almost dejectedly said, (I'd called her every night too, just to check in) all of his publicity translated into free Fangtasia publicity, and they had already made up for Long Shadow's theft in one night alone.

I'd laughed when she told me every time she felt like assaulting a human—which was even more frequent now, I'd gathered—and couldn't because of the undercover, and not-so-undercover, cops that had also taken to visiting Fangtasia, she simply went to Eric's office and did some online shopping … giving a whole new meaning to the phrase "retail therapy."

She wasn't angry with Eric; just peeved at having to run Fangtasia in his absence when it was five times busier than normal.

When some journalist had asked the president about Eric during a press conference, she'd teased Eric, asking if he even knew who the human president was, which he'd been quick to assure me that he did. Still, Eric was considerably less than impressed that the most powerful man in the world (or just the human world?) knew his name. He'd confided that when someone told him about that, he'd merely asked if the president mentioned Fangtasia as well. Lord, had I laughed when Eric told me that.

I hadn't been as carefree when it occurred to me to ask him if there was a possibility that Bill, or Sophie-Anne, or some other vampire, would take the time to swoop in and snatch me while Eric was away. He'd assured me they wouldn't, but I have to say, it wasn't until he did say there was always someone watching me, day or night, that I felt entirely at ease about it.

Well, whoever was watching me, I felt sorry for them. My Gran had more social activities than I did right now. I didn't have to work, since Sam had given me the rest of the week off—and if he hadn't, I would have taken it off anyways, since I just knew all people would do is talk, or think, about me there. I still went out of my house—to the library, the grocery store, the gas station, to Tara's Togs and later out to coffee with Tara—but that was about it. Jason had, as he said, swung by to bring some pity food home, but he was the only person I let inside. Whoever, or whatever, was watching me was doing it from outside. And they were probably bored as hell doing it.

Well, maybe not _all _the time; if they had been paying attention the sixth night, they would have seen me dancing in the living room like … well, like I thought no one was watching. Because that sixth night, immediately after sunset, Eric had called to tell me his jet to Shreveport was going to leave in five minutes.

"For real?" I asked after the third time I skipped around the coffee table. If Eric could hear my heavy panting—and I'm sure he could—he didn't ask about it.

"Yes. I should arrive at Fangtasia sometime before ten, I think," he said.

"Oh, awesome!" I replied enthusiastically. Then, I told him what I'd said every other time we'd spoken on the phone. "I've missed you."

He said his line perfectly. "I've missed you too." Then, he deviated from our inside-joke (more like inside-conversation, really) and asked, "Will you be at Fangtasia, when I arrive?"

"Of course!"

"Perfect. Listen, Sookie, the plane's going take off soon, but I'll see you at Fangtasia at ten, yes?"

"Yes, yes, and yes. See you then!"

And then he hung up and I did too, already trying to dream up the perfect "welcome home" outfit.

It wasn't until I had heated up a plate of lasagna, scoured the _USA Today_ I'd got at the gas station for any mention of Eric, showered, and was wrapped in a towel blow-drying my hair that I decided to go with a pair of dark boot-cut jeans and an olive green turtleneck. Though the outfit was simple, the sweater was clingy (and okay, so it made my boobs look even bigger, not that that was a hard task) and the jeans were tight in all the places I'd want my jeans to be tight. A pair of brown ankle boots that I'd just bought at Tara's shop, and I was all set. Now, since it had been almost a whole week since I'd seen Eric, I did wear more makeup than I usually did around him: brown eyeliner that I smudged with my finger for a smoky look, brown mascara, peach blush, and some matching lip-gloss.

Sorry, but I looked _good_.

So that put me in a great mood, but not that that was hard—I'd been smiling ever since Eric asked if I'd meet him at Fangtasia. And I kept checking myself out in the mirror, first in just the bathroom mirror, for my makeup, and then both that mirror and the full-sized mirror in my room. I was running late then; I should have left ten minutes ago if I wanted to make it to Fangtasia by ten. But I was so happy I didn't care.

In fact, I was so giddy, singing along to all the songs I knew on the radio and humming the parts I didn't know the words too, that I didn't even notice a naked woman and a pig standing in the middle of the road until it was almost too late.

I swerved, nearly hitting a tree instead of this, this person and her pet pig, but I managed to stop the car without hurting anyone—except maybe the tar on the street, judging from the tire marks I'd just created.

I shook my head and blinked, but she was still there. And now I could see that the naked lady was holding a long stick with some tufts of something sprouting from one end, and the pig wasn't just any old pig but a razorback pig. I didn't know which was worse. Or grosser.

Then crazy lady and crazy piggy were walking over to my car. I tried reading her mind—she was supernatural (and super crazy) because I could read her mind but it was in a different language. So she wasn't a vampire. Maybe the pig was a shifter? I couldn't read his mind, but I hadn't been able to read the minds of the wolves at the witch fight either, so that was a dead end. Either way, these people were walking over to me, so I quickly stepped out of the car, a few steps away from the open door. She stopped about a couple feet away from me, and the pig did too. Good.

"Are you okay? What happened? Do you need a phone?" I asked hesitantly. _Or some clothes, at least?_

She had long, dark, snarled hair, and it kind of formed a weird type of hair-bra for her breasts. She tilted her head, but didn't say anything. It didn't matter, though—in that instance I saw that her mouth was bloody, like she'd just been eating raw meat. Or raw animal. Or, hell, raw human. _Lovely._

My cell phone was in my jeans pocket, but I guessed she wouldn't like it too much if I whipped it out and started dialing Eric's number. And not just because that'd be an incredibly impolite thing to do. _Shit_.

I hoped the razorback was feeling friendlier. They were very rarely seen around Bon Temps, though every now and then a hunter would spot one; even more rarely bring one down. That was a picture-in-the-paper occasion. This hog smelled _ripe_. Was it just a stinky shifter—or a were-pig?

I was really nervous, so I smiled at her. When she smiled back at me but didn't say anything, I whisper-asked, "Are you going to eat me?"

"I have no intention of eating you," she said, sounding amused.

"Yes, I see now that you've already had your supper," I said nervously, and then could've slapped myself. "Uh, what about your friend?"

"Oh, the hog." As if she'd just noticed it, the woman reached over and scratched the razorback's neck, like I would a friendly dog's. The ferocious tusks bobbed up and down.

"She'll do what I tell her," the woman said casually. I didn't need a translator to understand the threat. I tried to look equally casual as I glanced around the open space where I stood, hoping to locate a tree that I could climb if I had to. But all the trunks close enough for me to reach in time were bare of branches; they were the loblolly pines grown by the millions in our neck of the woods, for their lumber. The branches start about fifteen feet up. No-go there.

"You smell like Eric Northman. Why?" she said inquisitively.

"I'm his," I said, remembering the term as a stupid way of saying I was Eric's property, and that no one could touch me. I hoped that applied to her … whatever she was. Since I could vaguely read her mind, I knew she wasn't a vampire. Did that no-touching rule apply to her? Sweet Jesus, I hoped so.

Her eyes widened slightly, especially when I asked, "Excuse me, ma'am, but what are you? If you don't mind me asking."

She smiled again, this time showing teeth that had chunks of red stuff in between them, and I shuddered. "Not at all. I'm a maenad."

That was something Greek. I didn't know exactly what, but it was wild, female, and lived in nature, if my impressions were correct. Apparently it also liked hogs and conversing with blonds, but I was sure that information wouldn't be in any mythology textbook.

"That's very interesting," I said, grinning for all I was worth in an attempt to not betray any sign of fear. "And you are out here tonight because … ?"

"I need a message taken to Eric Northman," she said, moving closer. This time I could see her do it. The hog snuffled along at her side as if she were tied to the woman. The smell was indescribable. I could see the little brushy tail of the razorback—it was switching back and forth in a brisk, impatient sort of way. Of course it was terrifying.

"Oh, really? That's convenient because I was just on my way to—" I happened to glance up at her—and whirled to run as quickly as I could. If I hadn't ingested some of Eric's vampire blood a couple weeks ago, I couldn't have turned in time, and I would've taken the blow on my face and chest instead of my back. It felt exactly as though someone very strong had swung a heavy rake and the points had caught in my skin, gone deeper, and torn their way across my back.

I couldn't keep to my feet, but pitched forward and landed on my stomach, hitting my head on the open car door. I heard her laughing behind me, and the hog snuffling, and then I registered the fact that she had gone. And I was all alone.

I lay there crying for God knows how long, panting like a woman in labor, attempting to master the pain. My back hurt like hell, and now my forehead did too. Blood started trickling down over my eyes, and I was weaving in and out of consciousness.

I was mad, too, with the little energy I could spare. I was just a living bulletin board to that bitch, that maenad, whatever the hell she was. I managed to drag myself over to the side of the road, growing angrier and angrier with each excruciating heave. I was shaking all over from the pain and the rage, dragging myself along, until I didn't feel I was worth killing, I was such a mess.

Of course no cars happened to pass by; this was the worst night for me to try and take back roads instead of the highway. Damn Mapquest at the library—I never should have looked up the fastest route from my house to Fangtasia.

Once I was on the side of the road, I tried to pull myself up using the car door handle, but my back fucking _hurt_ when I tried to sit in a ninety-degree angle. So I gave up on that and took my cell phone out of my pocket—it took a while, but finally it was out, and I was able to see that it was 9:57.

Was Eric wondering where I was? Could he feel me?—he said he could do that, didn't he? Or was I just hallucinating that assumption? I slowly dialed his cell phone number, not thinking to look him up on my meager contact list or simply find his number on the recently received calls list until it was too late.

He picked up on the first ring. "Sookie? Where are you? What has happened to you?"

"Find … me," I gasped, gulping in air between words. "Eric … find me."

"Where are you?" he asked quickly.

"On … the side … of the … road … somewhere. Eric … Eric, I can't … get up … it's my back … and head," I said as quietly and quickly as I could. "Quick … before she comes … back."

"I'm on my way now. Pam," he barked, calling out to her, "Get your keys. Now." After a moment he said to me, "We're in Pam's mini-van, pulling out of the parking lot. Tell me, who's 'she,' Sookie?"

I paused. Bitch never did tell me her name.

"Sookie? Are you there? Stay with me. Stay with the sound of my voice. Who's 'she?'" I heard a female voice say something—Pam—and Eric added, "Was it a vampire?"

"Nope … mae … maenad. FUCK! It hurts!" I cried out, a new wave of pain coursing through my body.

"Sookie!" Eric exclaimed, sounding more scared and alert than I'd ever heard him.

"Blood," I blurted out, not even knowing if I was telling him I was bloodied, or if I was asking him if my blood would lead him to me, or that I was telling him I needed his blood. I was barely hanging in there—I was at the point where I wanted to pass out or maybe even die, just so I wouldn't have to feel the pain.

Then, I guessed whatever fairy-godmother I had that got distracted when I got mauled by the maenad was trying to make it up to me, because my wish was granted: everything faded to black.

…

***rubs hands together* MUAHAHAHAHA! Next chapter should be up soon, I swear it.  
**

**BTW there is a new contest I'd like you to bring your attention to, called "I Write The Songs." If you should know anything about me, it's that I absolutely LOVE music, so you can bet I'm gonna promote the crap out of it. And GUESS WHAT? You have a whole month before stories are even DUE. Know what that means? ABSOLUTELY NO EXCUSES, PEOPLE. Get your writing on, 'cause you know I'll be!**

**Here's the link for the contest. **

**http:/ www . fanfiction . net/u/2491610/I_Write_The_Songs  
**


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: Sorry I didn't reply to the reviews! But I'm sure this quick posting will make up for it, right? :)  
**

**Chiisai-kitty, you da bomb! And CH, thank you for letting me borrow your characters and descriptions. I always thought that TB Dr. Ludwig seemed pretty true to form from SVM Dr. Ludwig. **

…

I was awakened by the feel of cool hands under my stomach, trying to lift me up. I managed to raise my head and saw Eric's face inches away from mine. He was so concentrated on not moving my back he didn't realize I was awake until I sighed, "Eric."

He looked at me, and his eyes were big and blue and scared—so scared, more scared, too scared. "Sookie," he breathed, finally able to pick me up without compromising my back. My face was smushed in his chest, where I saw he was wearing a black tank top underneath a black track jacket, with matching pants to boot. He was wearing flip flops, which I saw when he had been crouching down next to me.

"We need to move. She might come back," Pam said, from the other side of me. I turned to look at her, and tried to smile at her vampire costume; she'd really overdone herself on that gauzy little number. What was even weirder was that she was looking at me with … compassion? Worry? Fear for my bloody sweater? "Where should we go?"

"Fangtasia's closest," Eric said. "That's only fifteen minutes away from here."

"The fuck … where you take me," I mumbled with effort, "just … help me."

"She's right," Pam said, and she turned to walk to her mini-van that was parked on the other side of the road. She pressed a button on her car-key thing, the one that lets you lock or unlock the car from a distance, and the doors slid open; there were no seats where there should be back seats. I guessed that was why they took Pam's minivan—and here I was thinking it was because Eric didn't want his Corvette to get ruined. I could've hit myself in the forehead for being so shallow, but that just would have made things worse.

Eric carried me over and laid me down on my stomach; now that I was actually in the car, I could see two trap-doors on the floor where they must have folded the seats. He closed the door and then stepped over me, crouching down next to where I was lying. Eric took off the track jacket he was wearing and, understanding what he was trying to do, I lifted my chin up so he could put my newly-created pillow down.

He smiled softly at me before turning to Pam and barking, "Drive!"

I was glad I was lying on the floor, because I knew if I was able to see how fast Pam was driving I'd feel even more nauseous and dizzy.

Eric took his cell phone out and dialed a number. "Yes, it's Eric Northman. I need you to be at Fangtasia now. My lover was scratched by a maenad ... Correct ... Why the fuck would I joke about my lover being scratched by a maenad? ... I see ... Her back. Her forehead's slashed too, but the cut doesn't resemble the one on her back. There was blood on her car door; I think she hit her head when she fell down from the attack."

Eric looked at me and I nodded to show his guess was right.

"She's alive. Conscious too, but not for long. She was passed out when we got to her ... of course, I already tried that. Her body rejected my blood. She'll need human blood. She's O-negative ... Yes, I know ... We'll be there in ten_, if Pam stops driving like how old she is in human years _...The bar's already shut down, just walk in. Yes."

He snapped the phone shut and looked down on me. He tried to smile, but it looked forced. "That was Dr. Ludwig. She specializes in supes," he explained to me. "She's the best."

"Good."

Though Eric said we were ten minutes away from Fangtasia, it felt like ten years.

God bless him, Eric kept brushing the hair away from my cuts, but it was hard considering the cut on my back and the cut on my forehead. Finally Pam reached back and handed him a clip, which he used to pile all my hair on top of my head. I'm sure it looked disastrous, but I thanked him.

"Why couldn't my body accept your blood?" I asked, pleased at finally not having to gasp or interrupt myself to wince. "I thought vampire blood cured everything."

"Me too," Eric said darkly. I saw Pam nod in the rearview mirror.

"Did you try just my back, or my head too?"

Eric looked surprised. "Just your back. I didn't think to try your forehead." He brought his finger to his mouth and bit down hard, and then pressed the bleeding finger to the cut on my forehead.

It was only there for a millisecond it seemed, and then I started screaming in pain. It felt like his finger was on fire—or maybe that my forehead was on fire. Either way, it fucking hurt.

He started swearing under his breath, starting out with English and then going through every language he knew, or so it seemed.

"That wasn't supposed to happen, was it?" I hissed. I felt the stirrings of a panic attack. If vampire blood couldn't heal me, what could? I was a goner, for sure.

"Not at all," Eric whispered, shocked to the core. "Pam, drive faster!"

"Yes, Eric," she said, and the car lurched forward.

"So … a maenad did this?" Eric said after a minute, trying to distract me. "Did she say her name?"

It wasn't really working, the whole distraction thing, but my breathing did steady a little and I appreciated his effort. "No. But she knew yours."

He looked astonished, and I saw Pam's widened eyes dart to the rear-view mirror. "She knew my name?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm a message to you … surprise."

He didn't find that funny, and I didn't either. In fact, he closed his eyes and reopened them a couple seconds later. "Oh, Sookie," he whispered.

"Why?"

"Why she knew me? I don't know," Eric replied, sounding stunned.

Pam joined the conversation, explaining, "It was on my list of things to tell you tonight, Eric. I got a report that there was a sighting in Monroe."

"So this is of my account," Eric stated darkly, ducking his head.

"Doesn't matter. Not your fault," I said, taking his hand and bringing it to my lips for a kiss. I smiled up at him, trying to show that I didn't blame him.

He smiled sadly at me. Then he instantly straightened his back, looking down at me like he'd seen a ghost … which I wasn't, yet. His mouth was gaping, like he was_ trying_ to look like a fish out of water.

"Eric?" I asked. "Eric, what's wrong?"

He shook his head, almost disbelievingly. But he didn't respond.

"Five minutes away," Pam called out, her eyes appearing in the rearview mirror. I reached over and tapped Eric's flip-flop-covered foot, the closest body part of his to me, but he didn't respond.

So we were silent the rest of the way there, the only sounds being the sighs or groans I admitted, or Eric urging Pam to drive faster.

Soon Pam brought the mini-van to a screeching halt, and Eric opened the door so strongly it came off his hinges. "I'll buy you a new one. Or maybe a fucking sports car that can actually go past one-twenty," he called out over his shoulder to Pam as he lifted me out and ran me inside.

"The upholstery was bloody anyways," Pam muttered, right on his heels.

From what I could see, the parking lot was empty. But when I went inside, Chow was standing in Eric's office with the shortest woman I'd ever seen.

Sure, she was wearing a pair of white pants and a tunic, just like doctors at the hospital; well, just like doctors used to, before they started wearing that green color, or blue, or whatever crazy print came their way. But honest to God, I thought she was a hobbit or maybe a dwarf, she was so small. Her face was full of her nose, and her skin was olive. Her hair was golden brown and coarse, incredibly thick and wavy. She wore it clipped fairly short.

"What kind of doctor are you?" I asked her once Eric carefully laid me face-down on his new leather couch. Instead of stepping back once he was done, he came and crouched down in front of my face, his eyes trained on my face.

"The healing kind," she said in a nails-on-chalkboard voice, taking a step closer to me from where she'd been standing. "You have been poisoned."

"So that's why I keeping thinking I'm gonna die," I muttered. Eric chuckled.

"You will, quite soon," she said. Eric stopped mid-chuckle.

"Thanks a lot, Doc. What can you do about that?" I replied.

"We don't have a lot of choices. You've been poisoned. Have you ever heard of Komodo dragons? Their mouths are teeming with bacteria. Well, maenad wounds have the same toxic level. After a dragon has bitten you, the creature tracks you for hours, waiting for the bacteria to kill you. For maenads, the delayed death adds to the fun. For Komodo dragons, who knows?"

Thanks for the _National Geographic _side trip, Doc. I'll make sure to tell Jesus that little fun fact when I see him, which according to you is apparently in a couple minutes.

"What can you do?" I asked, through gritted teeth.

"I can close the exterior wounds. But your bloodstream has been compromised, and your blood must be removed and replaced. That is a job for the vampires." The good doctor seemed positively jolly at the prospect of everyone working together. On me.

Eric's head popped up so he could stare at the doctor.

She turned to the other gathered vamps—Pam, and Chow, who smiled at me. I shivered. "If only one of you takes the poisoned blood, that one will be pretty miserable. It's the element of magic that the maenad imparts. The Komodo dragon bite would be no problem for you guys." She laughed heartily.

I hated her. Tears streamed down my face from the pain, and Eric dutifully wiped them away with his thumb.

"So," she continued, "when I'm finished, each of you will take a turn, removing just a little of her blood. Then we'll give her a transfusion."

"Of the human blood you ordered," I guessed, and Dr. Ludwig nodded in confirmation.

"Will she be able to accept my blood after the transfusion?" Eric asked.

"Maybe. If she's able to make it to that point."

"Gee, thanks," I whimpered.

No one responded, but Eric looked murderous, especially when the doctor waved him away. He only stood and moved over to the arm rest closest to my face. A second later, and the doctor was hovering over me before she ripped off my sweater to get a closer look at my wounds. Or, at least that's what I thought she was gonna do before she suddenly ducked her head and started licking my back.

"OWWWWWW. You're gonna get poisoned!" I exclaimed, twisting my head to see her. She didn't stop, and I screamed in pain.

"She's a healer, Sookie. She'll be fine. We all will," Eric said comfortingly, raising his voice so I'd be able to hear him over myself.

I didn't ask if the "we" meant the vampires who'd be sucking the blood out of me, or if I was included in the "we" too. I didn't want to know the answer.

It must have showed, and he saw it. "Here, take my hand," he said, moving so he was crouching down in front of me again—and let me tell you, considering his height, it was quite the crouch. I lifted the hand that was closest to him and did exactly as he told me to. I was sure I would have broken every bone in his body if he was human, that's how much pain I was in. Eric didn't comment on that; in fact, he urged me to squeeze tighter, that it wouldn't hurt for him. He had to tell me a couple of times, and then when I started squeezing for real, I could tell it was finally starting to make an impact by the way he kept straightening his broad shoulders. He never once told me to stop, or calm down.

I barely noticed; I was sweating all over, and the pain in my back was excruciating. I could feel tears trickling down my face, mixing in with the blood that had been trying to stick to my skin. My head was throbbing, but I didn't know if it was because of my cut there or because of the pain. Either way, the room seemed to have acquired a yellow haze; everything looked sickly. Then everything became fuzzy, like I was wearing Gran's glasses.

"This is bad," I heard Chow say from faraway. I snorted in spite of everything. _Oh, how I missed you, Chow._

"Start it now," Eric said urgently, "and quickly. She's changing color."

I wondered, almost idly, what color I'd become. I couldn't hold my head off the couch anymore, as I'd been trying to do to look a little more alert. I laid my cheek on the leather, and immediately my sweat bound me to the surface. The burning sensation that radiated through my body from the claw marks on my back grew more intense, and I shrieked because I just couldn't help it. The dwarf leaped from the couch and bent to examine my eyes.

The doctor peered down at me, all clinical and cold. "Yes, if there's to be any hope," she said, but she sounded very far away to me. She had a syringe in her hand. Of what, I didn't know.

The last thing I registered was Eric's face moving closer to me. "Just let go, Sookie," he urged.

"Not until … you tell me why … you were acting so … weird, in the car," I managed, pausing whenever the rolls of pain slammed into me. I kept going back to the way he looked, the way he'd looked at me in the car, in an effort to think myself awake. It wasn't working out too well.

He paused, looked at the floor, and then at my face. "Sookie … I remember everything."

"About fucking time," I mumbled sluggishly before I faded into unconsciousness.

…

**BEFORE YOU GUYS START ON THE CLIFFY ENDING … know that I love you all. **


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N: I know, I suck for making you guys wait on a mega cliffy like that. Sorry, but I got caught up getting ready for college and whatnot. Also, I wanted to make this chapter as perfect as I could make it, with the whole story about Eric's revelation and all. I hope you guys enjoy the hard work I put into it. **

**That being said, I just wanted to thank all you guys who reviewed—sorry I didn't reply back! This past chapter (understandably) got the most reviews, in case you were wondering.**

**Shout out to my beta chiisai-kitty for looking this over. I did go back and do some major editing and rearranging, so any mistakes are all on me. Thanks to CH for her brain. **

…

I opened my eyes with great reluctance. I felt that I'd been sleeping in a weird position, like I'd taken a nap in a straight-back chair; I'd definitely dozed off somewhere inappropriate and uncomfortable. I felt groggy, and I ached all over.

Once I was able to see straight, I noticed that Eric was sitting in his chair, now moved a yard away from where I was lying face-down on the couch in his office. "You're up," he commented softly, getting up and kneeling in front of me. "Dr. Ludwig was right."

"Boy, am I glad about that," I said wearily, feeling about eighty years old—and sounding it too.

"Me too. It would have been a great loss, if she was wrong," he said seriously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My clip from before was nowhere to be seen.

I suddenly realized that though I was in the same bloody, dirty jeans as before, someone had put a large Fangtasia t-shirt on me.

I looked up at Eric, eyes widened.

"Yes, we had to take your shirt off. I'll buy you another one," he said softly. "I put the other one on you, by the way; I felt like you'd appreciate the modesty."

As much as I was touched by that gesture … I had to admit, I felt a little tingly by the thought of Eric looking out for me like that … and looking at my boobs at the same time. "Thanks. What else happened," I asked, cautiously shrugging my shoulders and testing out my back.

It felt like … there were a lot of cuts back there, cuts that might open if I moved the wrong way. Which was probably true. It stung whenever I moved my back, so I just stayed still where I was lying.

"We did as Dr. Ludwig said. Pam, Chow, and I all took a turn drinking your blood, and when you were almost dry we began the transfusion." He paused and looked at the floor before grinning up at me, "I must admit, we took turns holding you on our laps. You were much admired … by everyone—as much as I allowed them to be, anyway—and most of all, me."

I knew he was trying to joke with me, make me laugh a little. After all, that was all I could do knowing Chow had seen me topless. UGH. But it just made me blush and wonder if Eric had, ah, admired me. Which was a totally crazy thing to ask considering what I'd just been through … but did he?

Did I want him to?

I knew the answer like how I knew my name was Sookie Stackhouse: _absolutely_.

"I would have liked that, for the first time I saw your breasts after my amnesia, that you were conscious during it. But, I'll take it," he continued matter-of-factly. I snorted, and he grinned, eyes sparkling once he succeeded in making me laugh, or something like it. He stood up and walked to his closet, asking, "Would you like to take a shower?"

I nodded, and half-watched through hooded-eyes as he retrieved a stack of clothes—a stack of _my _clothes, I quickly realized. They were the jeans, cami, and zip-up hoodie I had been wearing when Long Shadow staked me; I had forgotten Eric had kept them to give to the dry-cleaners. He didn't comment on them as he held the clothes out to me, along with a fluffy white towel. I accepted them and, with his hand at my elbow, stood up.

"Did you mean what you said?" I asked hesitantly, bringing up what should have been brought up once I knew I was still alive.

"About seeing your breasts? Absolutely," Eric replied, concentrating on getting the both of us through the door frame.

"Uh, no. Right before I passed out—when you said you remembered everything," I clarified.

He stopped, dead in his tracks, and turned his head towards me.

"Yes. What I said was true," Eric said, looking me straight in the eye. Even in the slightly dim interior of his office, his eyes were bright blue. "I remember everything."

My heart soared, so high I felt like I couldn't get the words out quick enough. "What brought that about? Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"I would hope not," he replied, the corners of his mouth turning up. But he sobered when he added, "It happened during the ride over to Fangtasia, as you managed to notice despite your painful distractions. One minute I couldn't remember, and the next minute I could."

"But _why_?" I pushed, "Why then? Why not, say, two minutes after you got your other memories back?"

He propped me up against the door frame, and leaned his back on the other side of it so we were facing each other … and we were really close to each other.

"I was going to tell you this, when we were supposed to meet at Fangtasia … I met with the leader of a powerful witch coven in New York City," he explained.

I made a "go-on" gesture with my hand.

Eric continued, "She told me the particulars about the spell Hallow cast on me— a spell that said I would be close to my heart's desire without ever realizing it. Now, I had already known that, because Pam had found Hallow's spell book, and the page the spell was on was marked."

As surprised as I was, I didn't say anything. But why was this the first I was hearing of this?

Eric glanced at my face and knew what I was thinking. He quickly explained, "I didn't tell you this because I only found out about a little more than a week ago, a day or so before I had to leave. Honestly. And then, with Bill and the queen and Rene and the murders and Tina … I felt you'd be overwhelmed by the information."

Well, okay, so he was right about that. Completely right. But still, I crossed my arms.

"Originally, I believed that the amnesia was my curse—living with you, my heart's desire, without knowing who you were. But I now realize the curse was _after_ my amnesia—that I wouldn't remember you _after_ I got my memories back. That I truly was, close to my heart's desire without realizing it. But then, suddenly I did realize it."

He looked up, wide-eyed, at me. "The witch told me I would get those memories back when my feelings for you were the same as they were when I had amnesia. I didn't believe her until tonight. I / I thought you were going to die, and all because of me. You were attacked by a maenad, had blood oozing from your back and forehead, your body was convulsing … but you forgave me, kissed my hand, smiled up at me, tried to make _me_ feel better. And I knew in that moment, I loved you. And then I also knew in that moment … everything. How much I had loved you in the past. The ways I loved you in the past. _Everything_."

_Eric loves me. Eric loves me. Eric loves me. _

_Eric loved me before he got his memories back!_

"Oh boy," I gasped. _Eric loves me. Eric loves me. Eric loves me. Eric loved me before he got his memories back!_

He smiled a little. "Yes."

"So you really remember everything?" I asked, hardly believing it. It had to be too good to be true.

"I do," he confirmed, and he bent down to kiss me.

Using all my strength, I turned my head so he would kiss me on the lips. Boy, did he. I could tell we were both trying to restrain ourselves, because of my injuries and the tightness of the space we were enclosed in, but even with that the kiss was … _perfect._ It was earnest without being annoying, comfortable without being boring, passionate without being invasive. _Perfect_.

I hated that I had to stop it, but my back was rammed against the door frame and when I accidentally bit down on Eric's tongue when my cuts rubbed against the metal, I knew it was time to break it off. I blushed and apologized.

I didn't know how Eric was going to respond to that, but I certainly didn't expect him to tuck his hair behind his ears and ask me, "I told you how I feel about you. Can you say your feelings are the same about me?"

I paused—he looked so … vulnerable? … right now, even though his body was towering over mine. He raised his eyebrows when I didn't answer right away.

Though my voice was still a little shaky from shock—and that _kiss—_I replied, "I loved Amnesiac Eric. I was starting to love Regular Eric. Now, now I just love you, Eric … I love you."

He bent down to kiss me again, and it was full of pent-up feelings, for both of us. I had waited _a long _time for this moment to happen—as I'm sure Eric had to, originally for a different reason—and now that this moment actually _was_ happening, I didn't want to leave it. Though he ended up pushing my back against the door frame in his haste to get as close to me as vampirely possible, I didn't say anything about the slight pain I was feeling because I didn't want to ruin the kiss. How could I, with the way he was kissing me? I'd be a fool this time to stop him … or his hands … or his tongue … or his lips.

He must have picked up on my back pain though, because he pulled back and sheepishly said, "Sorry about that. But, there's always more time for kisses." He grinned down at me, and his enthusiasm and cheer was so infectious I couldn't help but grin back. Not that that was such a hard thing to do.

"You betcha. Now, I could really use a shower. Do you mind?" I asked.

"Not at all," he replied easily. He helped me to the room with the shower, only this time there was a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of conditioner, a washcloth, and a bar of soap. Not only was I touched by the gesture, since Eric must have arranged to have them put in sometime after the night Long Shadow attacked me … but they were the same products I had at home, in my own shower.

Eric was such a good noticer, I'd found out—of everything, and, most of all, of me.

"From what you said earlier, am I to assume that you thought of how and when you'd see my breasts for the first time after your amnesia?" I teased, slightly annoyed at myself for just thinking of that retort now instead of when Eric had actually said it.

Eric smirked. "Enjoy the shower."

…

I did, in fact, enjoy the shower, but not in the way Eric so cheekily implied. I was too sore and tired to even consider _that._

Though the shower water was warm, it stung my back as soon as I turned to wash my hair—though the cuts had closed up, it was still very vulnerable. The cut on my forehead didn't seem as tender, thankfully. I resolved to go to the bathroom once I finished the shower; it stunk being injured in the only two places on my body I couldn't see, my face and my back. I could see all of the blood swirling down the drain.

As I found out, my injuries and body's soreness made it just as hard to take clothes off as it did to put them on—although part of the latter problem might have been because of the pair of underwear so small and lacey they were more of a thong than a boy short. I was probably better off just not wearing the underwear, but it had taken so long for me to put both them and my jeans on it wasn't worth it. I picked my old, bloody jeans up off of the floor where I had left them; I hoped my laundry detergent would be strong enough, or else maybe Eric's special vampire dry cleaners could take care of them like they had with the pair of once-bloody jeans I was now wearing.

There wasn't anyone out in the hall, I noticed, when I snuck into the employee bathroom, and I also made sure there wasn't anyone else in the employee bathroom before I carefully unzipped my hoodie, took my camisole off, and stood with my back to the mirror. I was only looking over my shoulder, but I could see marks—it looked like something had clawed me, and though there weren't any open wounds, the claw marks were red and ragged and slightly raised. No matter, my hair was long enough to cover the parts of the marks that would show if I wore a halter top or something else that was backless. Okay. I could live with that.

Curiously, my forehead cut was gone—no traces of it at all. I wondered if Eric had given me blood like he'd asked Dr. Ludwig about doing. That was the only reason why that regular cut would disappear, but the maenad cuts would still remain. Right?

I put my shirts back on and walked to Eric's office. The door was open but I still politely knocked on the wall next to it before stepping in.

"How was your shower?" he asked, lifting his head up from his work.

"Completely necessary. But, Eric, did you give me blood?" I asked. As soon as I closed my mouth I realized that my words sounded almost accusatory, though they definitely weren't meant to, and I added, "I only ask because my forehead cut's gone."

"Yes, I did. And we need to talk about that," he replied slowly. I shot him a quizzical look as I walked over to where he was sitting, choosing to lean against the desk, facing him kind of.

"Sure," I replied once I was settled.

He put his pen down and moved the stack of papers to the side before pushing his swivel-chair back far enough so he was sitting in front of me. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and said, "This was roughly the third time you have taken my blood," he said seriously. "The first two were during love-making, and this was the third, when I healed your forehead cut. I don't think my attempt to give you my blood on the side of the road counted, since your body rejected it. "

"Okayyyyy."

"You don't know what that means?" he asked.

I shook my head. "That I've taken your blood three times? I don't know. What?"

"I have taken your blood more than three times," he said, ignoring the question. I mentally added up all the times and figured he was right, as he always was.

"Cool. I still have no idea what you're talking about."

A ghost of his smile appeared on his face, before he said, "We're bonded now, unofficially."

_Huh?_ "Well, yeah. Especially now that you remember everything," I said obviously.

He shook his head. "A blood bond. It occurs whenever a vampire and a human have swapped blood three times. My connection has always been strong to you, because I'd had your blood more than three times. That's why I could feel your pain and fear tonight. That's why I was able to find you. But now that I've given you my blood, it's complete."

"What's the big deal?" I asked. "Does that mean I'll be able to feel your feelings, and track you?"

"I've been keeping them closed off, so as to not overwhelm you in your present state; I can teach you how to do that, though you know how to do that sometimes. I've noticed that, when we're at Fangtasia and you're shielding your mind, then it's harder to get a read on you," he explained. He looked at the wall briefly before turning his gaze back to me and quietly saying, "I can close my side of the bond off for you, since I imagine it'd be like reading my mind all the time, and you already have to deal with reading everyone else's mind."

"No, Eric, you don't have to do that," I said. "I often wonder what you're thinking—you're the only person I've ever thought that about, to be honest. And now here I am, with the chance to at least know what you're feeling."

"You don't always have to be nice," he said cautiously. "I wouldn't mind closing my side of the bond. And you don't have to feel obligated to keep yours open."

"Tell ya what. Why don't we both make it a judgment call? If you want your side of the bond open at a certain time, you let it. If not, close it off. How does that sound?" I said.

"Like a good compromise." Though he had been willing to keep his feelings in check, I could _tell_ he was glad I didn't want that, not all of the time. It was strange, but I felt even gladder now, and that was probably because Eric was feeling glad—but you didn't need a blood bond with him to tell that, you just needed to have eyes to see the big-ass smile lighting up his face. I didn't mind the whole feeling-someone-else's-feelings thingamabob, since, hey, I could already read everyone else's mind, but it was gonna take a little getting used to.

"You said we were bonded, unofficially," I said, making it sound like a question.

"Correct. If it was official, and by that I mean we were either pledged or both bonded and pledged, we would have exchanged blood by a ceremonial knife, one used in marriage rituals. Either one of us would present the other with the knife, and the other person would accept it, or we would pool our collective blood in a goblet and both take a sip from it."

"And then we'd be pledged?" I said, wrinkling my nose a little. It'd be harder to cover up spilled blood on a wedding dress than, say, vanilla frosting. Of course, that was assuming one wears a wedding dress to a pledging. I didn't know. It's not like I spent all my life planning my dream pledging.

"Yes. Bonded means we're connected by blood only, which can eventually fade over time—_a lot _of time, mind you. Pledging is more binding, forever. You don't _necessarily_ have to share blood to be pledged, but you do have to share blood to be bonded."

"So I'll be able to feel you, for a long time. Is that it?" I asked for clarification.

"You are mine. No vampire can touch you," Eric said proudly, straightening his shoulders.

Shrugging my own shoulders, I replied, "I thought that was already true."

"Yes, but now there are more serious consequences if a supernatural being tries to touch you in any way. So we're not _officially_ married, as we would be if we were pledged—and I mean that in the supernatural world, for the marriage wouldn't be recognized in court—but … you're with me," he said, watching me closely.

"Okay."

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

He leaned back in his chair and commented, "I must admit, you are taking this much better than I would have expected."

"Well, yeah, I mean, it would have been nice if you waited to heal my cut and then told me about this bonding business," I said truthfully.

His mouth folding into a straight line, Eric sat up from his chair as I continued, "But I think even if you had done that, I still would have agreed to take your blood. Besides, from what you told me, this bonding thing is pretty much indestructible, so it's not like my throwing a fit would change anything, for the better."

Eric kinda dipped his head in agreement, but he didn't say anything. He was acting a little peculiar, I noticed.

"And … I already see myself as being in a permanent relationship with you—and that was before you got your memories, too. Plus, no other supe could touch me before, so that hasn't changed for me. Honestly, I'm more worried about the scratches on my back right now than being in a bond with you. That, I'm okay with. Dealing with the repercussions of getting scratched by a maenad, not really."

Eric was visibly relieved. Or, he was until I asked, "Do we have to do this pledging thing?"

"Have to? No. It's not essential. Why do you ask?"

I shrugged. "Just trying to make sense of everything, that's all."

"I see."

During the lull in conversation that followed, I asked, "Eric, could I trouble you for some water?"

"Not at all," he said warmly, taking his cell out of his pocket and typing something. "But you can trouble Pam for some water instead."

I smiled politely at his joke. Thirty seconds later Pam entered the room—without knocking first—and handed me the bottle of water.

"Thanks, Pam," I said, grinning at her as I accepted it. I almost made a joke about her excellent service, but she looked even haughtier and bored than normal, so I let it slide. I took a sip and sighed; this sounds crazy, but water had never tasted so good. This was some delicious water. I said that out loud.

"Nothing but the breast for you, Sookie. Ah, _best_, I mean," Pam said easily, causing me to blush ferociously and stare at the floor.

"Uncalled for, Pam," Eric said, rising from his chair. "You can leave us now."

"What? Freudian slip of the tongue," she said innocently as she turned to walk out of the door. Eric followed her and shut the door as soon as she was gone.

"I would interpret that as her way of paying you a compliment," Eric suggested as he returned to his seat.

"Yeah, that'd probably be the easiest way to take it," I agreed, still blushing but not as much as before. I took another sip of water and shook my head, like that would erase what just happened. "So, what are you gonna do about the maenad?"

He sighed. "She wants tribute from me—you were just a way to get my attention. She probably smelled my blood in you, or maybe my scent. Maenads have an exceptionally sharp sense of smell."

"She'd have to, since the last time I saw you was almost a week ago, and I last had your blood way before then," I remarked, "and what do you mean, 'tribute?'"

"Well, I should probably ask, what do you know about maenads?"

"The name sounds familiar. I think I mighta stumbled upon it while reading some Greek mythology. They were driven mad, right? By a god named Bacchus? But I though naiads were water and dryads trees, so what the heck was a maenad doing in the middle of the forest?"

His eyes twinkled as he appreciably commented, "Sookie, you have unexpected depths."

The compliment warmed me, a bolt of lightning that spread to my whole body and stayed there.

He continued, "Yes, you're right about the maenads being driven mad by Bacchus. From what I understand, the god entered some women so completely that they became immortal, or very close to it. Bacchus was the god of the grape, of course, so bars are very interesting to maenads. When Pam said there was a sighting of a maenad, I guessed she would end up contacting me. Of course, I never would have guessed she would end up contacting me through you."

"What will happen if you don't pay her tribute? She won't, like, cast a spell on you, will she?" I asked. I meant it as a joke, but I quickly realized it might actually be possible. I hoped to Heaven it wasn't.

He chuckled. "No. She'll do something much worse. She'll send her madness, either to Fangtasia or … into a vampire." He shuddered. "It's possible; I saw it firsthand in St. Petersburg, 1876. The Halloween Massacre. It took twenty of us to clean up and stake Gregory, it was so bad. Obviously, the maenad, Phryne, received tribute after that. Just like this maenad will definitely recieve tribute."

"Oh. Well, uh, how are you going to get rid of her—pay her tribute, I mean. Give her a ton of money?" I guessed.

"No. That won't be enough. She's too complicated for that—after all, she marred you and sent _you_ as a message to me; she didn't use email or call. Perhaps a sacrifice of some sort would be sufficient; I'll have to think more about it."

He darkly stared at his desk, and then looked up at me. "Sookie, I never told you the real reason why I asked you to Fangtasia. Telling you about the witch's explanation was only a small part of it."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, more than ready to move on to a new topic. I hated that maenad bitch so much, especially because I couldn't figure out how she managed to like, grow a lion claw in three seconds and then scratch the hell out of me. I was just glad I was able to turn around so she wouldn't scratch my face. That would have been devastating—not only would my face be untreatable, but I probably wouldn't be able to waitress at Merlotte's with bumps on my face. And yeah, I was superficial enough to be terrified about would have happened if she had managed to scratch my face.

"The queen called me yesterday," he started, and I quit any thinking of me and stared at Eric.

"I thought you said you had good news?"

"I know, it sounds ludicrous to me even as I say it, but we've come to an agreement, she and I. As a sheriff to her queen, I owe her a percentage of Fangtasia's profits—always have, always will. With the recent publicity I have given Fangtasia, my profits are increasing, as will the amount of money I will have to write out to her. It turns out that a large amount of humans are flocking to New Orleans as well, since it's always been a hotspot for vampires. Therefore, my new publicity has made the queen a lot of money, which she likes because she's in deep financial trouble with the IRS. She's very extravagant, as I hope you'll never have to find out."

I made a "go-on" gesture with my hands, and he continued, "I also received another phone call two nights ago, this time from a vampire in Texas, the sheriff of Area Six. His name is Stan."

_Stan the man._ "Okay. What did he have to say?"

"It appears that there is a vampire missing in his area—he suspects the Fellowship of the Sun organization has something to do with it."

"The Fellowship of the Sun … that's that anti-vampire group that Reverend Newlin—the guy we heard debating with Nan Flanagan that time on the radio—ran, before he, his wife, and their baby were killed in that freak car accident two days ago?" I asked. I only remembered it now because it had gotten a lot of rebound publicity from Eric's publicity, how a high-profile anti-vampire leader was suspiciously killed a couple days after an anti-vampire serial killer was caught. That's the way the world went round, I thought darkly.

"Precisely. And since I'm technically acting as the private investigator of Area 5, and there hasn't been any suspicious activity lately here, he asked for me to go down there with my telepath. I should warn you, he wants us to leave as soon as possible. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after that."

"I was supposed to start work in two days, but I'm sure Sam won't mind if I take a couple days off. Lord knows I haven't took a day off since … Gran."

"Excellent." He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes glowing with excitement. "So then when the queen called, I made a deal with her. I will accompany you to Dallas, where you will use your telepathy to find the vampire. If all goes well, it will show that you're capable of being loaned out—_of not having to live in a place in order to do telepathy work there for the people that reside there_." He purposefully raised an eyebrow at me once he finished speaking.

"So you're saying that if I do well on this mission, then the Queen won't force me to move to New Orleans to work for her?" I asked hopefully.

Beaming, he replied, "Exactly. I got her to agree that you would live in Area 5—either Bon Temps or Shreveport, but that is another discussion for another time—and I would act as your manager, as if you were a pop star. All requests would be sent to me, I would dictate your compensation and negotiate your contracts, I would escort you to all meetings and never leave your side. She wouldn't be able to contact you without my knowledge or agreement, and the fact that we are now bonded means you have close enough ties to her royal court that you won't have to act as her pet. Sookie … it's perfect."

"Eric!" I cried, scrambling to sit on his lap and throw my arms around his neck. "Damn straight it's perfect! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

He reached forward and kissed me on the lips. "It's all coming together now, isn't it?" he asked as he pulled away, beaming down on me.

I meant to reply "yeah," but I accidentally yawned instead. Eric just smiled at me, not at all uncomfortable. "Tired?"

"Like the day is long. Can I go home now?"

"Of course. When do you want to leave?" he asked after a moment.

"Now's fine."

"I'll bring my laptop and some papers along to work on," he said, and I got off his lap so he could start packing. He started packing _a lot_ of things—laptop, papers, folders, binders. When I told him that, he just shrugged and said, "Fangtasia missed me."

"Just Fangasia?" I asked playfully.

He smiled and walked over to where I was standing to give me a kiss on the lips. "Yeah. Just Fangtasia." Eric winked, and then slung a black leather messenger bag over his shoulder. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. But what about my car?"

Eric looked confused for a second until he remembered, "Ah, yes. We left your car on the side of the road."

"Yeah."

"Pam can get it," he said after a moment. "We can take my car to your house now, and she'll drive yours sometime over before dawn."

"Sounds like a plan. Hey, can we go see Pam and Chow before we go? I want to thank them. And what about Dr. Ludwig? Where'd she go?"

"Dr. Ludwig left. She's not a big fan of the fang, although she does appreciate the healing properties of our blood. Part of her payment is I have to donate some of my blood to her, in addition to money. And as for Pam and Chow, they're at the bar, counting tonight's profits. I had Chow clear everyone out after I received your call."

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be," he chided, opening the door for me. As we walked down the hall he admitted, "Besides, I can hear that we made as much money as we normally do."

When we walked into the bar, Pam and Chow looked up from where they were standing behind the bar, counting money. "Hi," I said nervously, walking over to where I would go if I was trying to order something from the bar. Eric followed, standing next to me and placing a careless arm around my shoulder.

"Hello, Sookie," Pam replied. Chow just nodded, barely.

"I just wanted to thank you guys for helping me tonight. You helped save my life, and I'm very grateful for that," I said earnestly.

"Anytime," Pam smirked, "especially when I get to drink your blood and see your breasts."

She started to laugh, but stopped once she took a look at Eric.

"It was my pleasure," Chow said, leering at me but becoming straight-faced once Pam elbowed him in the ribs and nudged him to look at Eric as well.

"Thanks," I said to everyone. And then, "Pam, in case you were wondering, I thought you were a good driver."

She smiled smugly. "Thanks. You should tell Eric that."

"Actually, Pam, I'll need you to get Sookie's car and have it to her house before dawn. Perhaps you can demonstrate your good driving then," Eric said.

She rolled her eyes, but she winked at me once Eric's back was turned. I waved goodbye to both vampires and followed Eric out of Fangtasia, his arm still around me. I slipped an arm around his waist, amazed at how easy it all felt.

"I didn't thank you," I remembered as we walked to his car. "Sorry about that. But, you get the biggest thanks of all. I am so, so grateful—and touched—by everything you did for me tonight."

I turned my head and kissed his hand that was resting on my shoulder, then turned my head the other way and stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek.

"I would do it every night if I had to," he said seriously.

Uh, okay.

"And your blood was perfect, even with the poison," Eric whispered in my ear.

With his free hand he pulled his car keys out of his pocket and popped open the trunk, where he put his bag.

Once we were both inside the car, I turned to him and said, "That was a long night, huh?"

Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, he smoothly replied, "It's not over yet."

…

**A/N: Just a heads up, I'll probably go back to my old posting style of one chapter a week, or something like that. Just super busy with RL right now, but I'll try my hardest to log in some writing hours!**


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N: Thanks to my super-speedy beta chiisai-kitty and CH for her characters!**

...

I was momentarily stunned by what Eric had just said._"It's not over yet."_

Did that mean what I thought it meant?

Did I want it to mean what I thought it meant?

_Uh, duh. _

Now that my back wasn't feeling as irritable—though that might have something to do with the soft cushiony leather that was Eric's Corvette's seat—I felt I would be up for some, uh, fun. Awh, heck, who was I kidding?

It sounded weird, but I felt like now I would be _allowed_ to be with Eric, in that way. Crazy, right? I mean, I knew if I had offered myself to him earlier, before he got his memories back, he definitely wouldn't have turned it down. From what I knew about him, he was always up for a good time. But now it seemed like I could do whatever I wanted to him, now that we were together.

Wait, were we? We had to be. It was so strange, but Eric and I had never really sat down and talked about our relationship—not Amnesiac Eric, not non-Amnesiac Eric, and not non-Amnesiac Eric with his Amnesiac memories. We just fell into it, every damn time.

"You're confused," Eric said suddenly, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked over and saw that he was watching me, and probably had been this whole time. I thought I saw a shadow of a faint worry line between his brows. Once he saw he had my attention he added, "About what?"

"I think the better question is, what am I not confused about?" I mumbled. Then, I remembered I had manners. Or was supposed to. "I'm sorry. That was cynical and rude. It's just … this night has given me a lot to think about, you know?"

"Believe me, I know," Eric replied dryly in the same tone I had just mumbled in. He didn't apologize for it, though.

We stayed in silence before Eric perked up a little and playfully asked, "Want to know what you don't have to worry about?"

Huh? "Sure," I replied gamely, interested in hearing what he'd have to say.

"Your clothes for the Dallas trip," he said, waiting for my reaction.

"What?" I thought he'd say something like, I wouldn't have to worry about driving tonight, or something like that. But clothes? Eric talking about clothes—my clothes? Never would have guessed.

"Yes, your new clothes for the Dallas trip."

"_What?_" I said again, not caring that I was repeating myself.

I soon found out that, for some reason, Eric seemed to think he could give me a whole new wardrobe, and that he could do it by sunrise.

"Don't be ridiculous. Why do I need new clothes? What's wrong with them?" I asked stubbornly, crossing my arms as best as I could while being strapped in my seatbelt. Eric's driving always made me a little paranoid, though there was obviously no reason for it.

"Nothing's wrong with your clothes," Eric said quickly_. Smart man_. I shot him a look and he admitted, "You're to be seen as the telepath. As in, _The Telepath_. Not, a human. Not even my pet. If you're going to be telling a vampire what to do, you need to look like a professional." He smirked and added, almost as an afterthought, "Well, not this vampire."

I rolled my eyes. "Funny, Eric. But, seriously, a whole new wardrobe? With like, suits and high heels? That's way too much."

"You're not paying for it, Sookie," Eric started to say.

"You're not either, Eric," I said crossly. I'll admit, his buying me a phone and paying its bill had saved my life. Unfortunately, I didn't think a Chanel purse would do the same.

"Correct," he agreed easily.

That threw me in for a loop. "What?"

"The queen's financing everything—the hotel, the transportation, your clothing. I convinced her it'd be less expensive than the cost of housing you at her palace, in the long run."

"Really?" I asked brightly, almost not believing it.

Eric looked at me and waggled his eyebrows.

"Well, in that case … where did you say I had store credit?"

And then he had to go and throw his head back as he laughed for a good minute … like I needed another reason to be scared about his driving.

…

We were both in a much better mood by the time Eric pulled into my driveway. We had spent the rest of the trip talking about all of the crazy things I should buy just to spite the queen. Eric wanted me to buy a new sports car on her credit card. I told him I'd be fine with a couple extra pairs of shoes.

"But Eric, you said she was having money problems," I remembered as we walked up the stairs of the back porch.

"Yeah, and?" he replied, smiling down at me. I laughed as I opened the door.

I turned around after I walked in, and saw that Eric hadn't come in.

"I didn't rescind your invitation or anything," I said confusedly, not understanding what he was doing.

"I know," he said finally, "but, it just looks different, now that I can remember everything."

I didn't say anything, choosing instead to just watch him take in the sights as if this was the first time he'd ever been invited into my house. My tile floor and wooden cabinets had probably never been so interesting to another person.

"When you washed my feet, I sat right there," he said, pointing to the place where I had moved his chair. "And when I had to watch you and that Alcide playing the game, I stood right there, seething almost as much as I am now just thinking about it."

He walked inside the house now and closed the door. He stood still before deciding to place his laptop bag on the counter. After that, he strode over to the dining room, and all I could do was follow.

"When we had our date that you organized—which was amazing, because I don't think I said that as many times as I should have that night—we talked and ate at this table. And later you put the good silverware away in that drawer." Eric looked at me, for what seemed the first time since we had arrived home, and grinned. "I love that I can remember silly details like that."

I smiled at him. I did too.

After a moment he added, "And I love that I can remember important details as well. Us lying on the floor, you telling me about your family. Sitting on this couch as we listened to Pam talk about me. And," his voice lowering, "I love that I can remember what happened in your bedroom. I have to say, I _really _love those memories."

He stared at me with an unreadable expression on his face, one that made his eyes light up but his mouth stay in a hard line. I didn't get it.

With a final glance, he turned on his heel and walked up the stairs without saying anything. All I could do was quickly follow him, wondering what the hell was on his mind.

He walked right into my bedroom and stopped in the doorway, his hair slightly moving the only indication I could see from my position behind him that he was looking around the room. "Right now I would love to be able to read your mind," I said softly, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Back still to me, Eric murmured, almost to himself, "I can let you read my feelings."

And all of a sudden I was swept up in a mixture of joy and mourning and excitement and regret. But most evident to me was desire. It screamed to me as it ran around my body. Desire, desire, desire—Eric's desire. For me. For_ us._

I gasped and took a step back, and Eric turned around. "Let me feel you, lover," he murmured. It was the sexiest thing I had ever heard him say to me when we both had our clothes on and weren't touching.

Not sure if I knew how to do it, I closed my eyes and tried to relax and let down any shields down that I knew of. Let Eric feel my hope, my happiness, my anxiousness, my worry, and most of all, my anticipation. Let someone else know more about me than the normal person, instead of the other way around.

"Sookie," he whispered, walking over to me and finally stopping well past the point where normal people stop. He was towering over me, his face almost directly over mine. "Sookie," he whispered again.

And then he was bending down, or maybe I was on my tiptoes, but somehow, someway, we ended up together, lips together, bodies together. His hands found their way into my hair and pulled gently to deepen the angle, and deepen the kiss. God, he tasted even better now that we were in my bedroom.

Once our hands had done enough exploring of jeans and shirts and sweatshirts, Eric navigated us over to my bed, never once breaking apart from me. He carefully helped me lie down on my covers and spoke for the first time in what seemed like years. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I murmured dazedly, reaching a hand up to bring his face back down so I could kiss him again.

He pulled back after I stopped nibbling his bottom lip to ask, "Does your back hurt?"

"Only when you aren't kissing me," I said exasperatedly, sitting up now.

"Just checking," Eric said, sounding a little taken back.

He unzipped his track jacket—almost _too _slowly—and once that was on the floor next to my bed, he smoothly took off his tank top too, his arm and shoulder muscles contorting as he did that and making me even more turned on. His now-exposed abs and chest might have had something to do with that too.

"This make you feel better?" he asked, smiling a little.

All I could do was nod, and even _that_ took an effort. "Uh-huh."

"And what about now? Do you feel better now?" he teased as he took off his sweatpants, the sound of the swishy material getting drowned out by my heightened panting. He was in his boxers now, and I was starting at him like how you'd stare at a nearly naked, absolutely gorgeous man if he was standing in front of you.

"How am I supposed to catch my breath if you kept taking it away like that?" I whispered (forgetting he could hear me) as I began forcing my eyes up to meet his.

Eric gruffly said, "You're not," and started walking over and putting his hands on my shoulders. "I'm going to keep you breathless all night long." With that he started unzipping again, only this time it was my zipper his fingers were grasping. I shrugged off the sweatshirt with his help, but he wouldn't let me take my cami off.

"I want to do that," he explained, his fingers blessing me with their cool touch through the thin fabric of the camisole. I let him, and I let him take off my jeans too—with his vampire speed, they'd be off quicker that way.

Now that we were both clad only in our underwear, the pacing slowed as we both stopped to unabashedly ogle the other. His skin was pale in the moonlight, but that only made the hard contours of his chest and stomach and arms even more visible.

And then everything went back to normal, like our eyes had been tracing the other's body in slow-motion or something like that. Eric pounced—that really was the only word that could describe the graceful way he leapt on top of me, pinning me on top of the bed—and started smothering me with kisses. He was already doing good on his promise to leave me breathless all night, and my panties weren't even off yet.

Once he had climbed on top of me, he immediately went to town on the other parts of my body he hadn't seen since he was an amnesiac. "This is more like how I imagined I'd be seeing your breasts for the first time," he murmured into my skin, and the laugh that I barked out quickly morphed into a moan as his mouth slowly drifted down my neck, finally stopping at my chest. He looked up, his face sandwiched in between my breasts, his hair resting on my sides; he looked like he'd be content to stay there forever. But he didn't, since the next moment had him sucking a nipple, the other being looked after by his tweaking fingers. I gasped and squirmed, arching my back a little and pushing my breasts out.

He growled, and switched breasts; I was growing restless and laced my fingers through his hair, bringing his face closer to my body. His mouth and fingers were doing wonderful things to me right now, but I wanted them to be doing wonderful things to me somewhere else. I never realized how long it'd been since I last had sex with Eric, and now that I was up to speed I was anxious as ever to have it again.

"Eric," I breathed, "I need more."

He stopped his ministrations and looked up. He smirked, saying nothing, and started moving down, his mouth kissing my stomach while his fingers went ahead and started to pull my underwear off. He got them down to my knees, and using my feet I yanked them off and looped them somewhere that wasn't on the bed—I couldn't see where, and didn't care to find out.

Eric ran his thumbs up and down the inside of my thighs, and I quavered under his touch. Then he slowly pushed a finger inside of me, testing. I moaned in appreciation, almost at the same time he did. Another finger joined that one, and then his tongue did, and I relinquished control of my thoughts, of my voice, of the noises I was making.

I don't know how long he was down there for; I could only measure it in the number of times I gasped (a lot) or moaned (even more) or yelled his name (many times, in succession, when I was riding out my orgasm). When Eric finally did lift his head out from between my legs, he looked like he just won every contest ever created. I'm sure like I looked and sounded like I just ran every marathon ever created.

"Wow," I managed to squeak once I came back into my body. Eric supported his weight with his hands planted on either side of me, and he worked it so we were face to face again.

"Indeed," he murmured silkily, ducking down for a kiss. He tasted salty—of me, I guessed—as our tongues became intertwined over and over again.

I noticed—though I was a fool for not doing it sooner—he was pressing up against me, and that it was his turn to look dazed and say "Wow." Now it was my turn for my hand to sneak down south and take off his underwear, which I did, much to the delight of both of us. Then I reached for what I hadn't been able to touch in weeks, and Eric closed his eyes at the first touch. I stroked a few times, and then suddenly Eric's hand went on top of mine, to help me position himself at my entrance.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Double sure," I replied, and as soon as the words were out of my mouth he pushed inside of me. After a few initial moments of shocking pain, I quickly readjusted and began to revel in the feeling, even more when Eric started thrusting, excruciatingly slow at first, and then building up speed.

"This is it," he growled into my neck, "This is how it's supposed to be."

And then he bit down, and whatever response I had lined up went out the window. "_OhmigodOhmigodOhmigod_, _Eric, ohmigod!_" I cried out, my hands clawing his back now instead of roaming over the muscles like I had been before. "_Yes, Eric! Yes_!"

See? I knew I'd get the right reply in there somehow.

After a particularly hard suck he came, grunting and rubbing up against my skin. My little moment happened soon afterwards, my fingers quite literally digging into his back—it was that or the sheets, and I knew I wouldn't have to replace Eric's skin.

Once we were both finished, and Eric was done lazily licking up the blood from my neck, he kissed me. I tasted myself for the second time that night. After that, he rolled off and laid on his back next to me, listening to me try and catch my breath.

"Why on Earth didn't we do that sooner?" was the first thing that I said once I felt composed enough to speak.

Eric laughed heartily. "Because of you and your stubborn principles."

"Yeah, well. I can be an idiot sometimes," I admitted.

"You're not the only one," Eric said. He went on his side, propping his head up with an arm, and added, "I shouldn't have tried to cheapen our coupling that first night in Fangtasia. If I had remembered what it felt like to be inside you, I never would have said it."

Well, he got points for a creative excuse. "But you did, and we're here now, so it doesn't matter," I replied, trying to keep the mood light.

"Yes. We're here now," he agreed, smiling.

"At last."

We laughed a little, and then it became quiet. Or, it was, until Eric said, "Sookie?"

"Yes?"

"That was even better than I remembered."

"I'll say," I said, mentally adding, _'Give me two orgasms in a row, and I'll say anything.'_

"This was so much better than the memories we have in this bed," he continued. "But … "

"But what?" I asked quickly, turning over on my side now to look at him.

"But we could make new memories, you know."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"Got any ideas?"

He nodded seriously. "A few."

"Like what?"

"I think it'd be better if I showed you."

…

Boy, did he. He showed me what we should do to not disrupt my back, which ended with me riding on Eric, cowgirl style. I smiled lazily, remembering how much we both liked that he could play with my boobs while I was on him.

I smiled even more when I remembered the shower Eric thought we should take together after our second coupling, since we were both a little sticky. He had been prompted when I said my back wasn't hurting at all. "Let's test it out, just to be sure," he had said, and a minute later we were both in my shower, my legs and arms wrapped around him as he held me against the wall, the warm water raining down on us as he pounded into me.

"What are you smiling about?" I heard Eric playfully ask, and I opened my eyes for the first time since I dozed off. I had to blink a couple times, but the light of the laptop sitting on his lap showed that he was I sitting upright next to me, back against the headboard. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but he had put his boxers back on; I was still naked under the covers.

"Nothing. What time is it?" I asked, rolling over on my stomach and stretching my arms out as I yawned.

"Close to sunrise. I was just answering some emails and going over the itinerary for Dallas," he said. "Pam came by with your car. She says hi."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"Now that you're up, I'll just tell you this instead of writing you a note. Per instruction of the queen, I've set up an account at all the Lord & Taylor over at the Shreveport, and I've arranged for a personal shopper to help you tomorrow. Nothing is too extravagant for you, okay? Now is the time for you to get what you want, not what you need."

I yawned again. "Okay. I might invite Arlene to go shopping with me. I haven't seen her since the day after Rene was caught, and it'd be a good way to catch up."

"Sure," Eric said agreeably. "Moving on, our flight leaves at eight. There'll be a car to pick us up here at six."

"Oh, do you have all your stuff?" I asked, just to make sure I heard right.

"Yes, Pam brought over a suitcase and a carry-on, so I should be fine. You should know, I only have clothes for a couple of days. I'm sure we won't have to be there too long."

"Yeah, okay. You know, I've never been on a plane before."

"Really?" Eric asked, sounding genuinely interested.

I shrugged, or as much as I could lying on my stomach. "Yep. I've been to Dallas though, but that was during my senior year in high school. We took a bus to go to an amusement park, and it wasn't that great. Hopefully this trip to Dallas will be better."

Hell, anything would be better than that stupid trip to Dallas. Back then I'd been terrible at blocking people out, and going to an amusement park had not been too fun, no matter how many times I got to go on the roller coaster.

"Of course it will be. You're going to be with me," Eric said very seriously, and I laughed even though I was sure that wasn't his intention.

...

**A/N: Ah, the long-waited lemons. Tah-dah.**

**On a more serious (and lemon-free) note ... about Dallas. Here we go. I had to think long and hard about how I was going to write it out. As awesome as I think it would be for Eric to introduce Sookie to the most important man in his undead life, Godric, I feel like that's TB territory. That being said, I LOATHE the plot line in _Living Dead in Dallas_, where Sookie has to interview these random people that work at a stupid little bar to figure out Farrell was taken by Godfrey to the Fellowship of the Sun. I think that whole thing is messy and quite frankly, I don't want to touch it. I also don't want to touch the much cleaner TB line, but that's for a different reason. That being said, what I decided is that I'm keeping the whole Farrell-is-taken-by-Godfrey idea, but without having to introduce all the unnecessary (and uninteresting) characters and secondary plot lines that going that route entails. Just a heads up for anyone who was wondering about that.**


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: Hi people! Super sorry I haven't been able to respond to any reviews or PMs. I'm saying goodbye to everyone and spending as much time with the fam as I can before leaving for college, so there's that. **

**Three scoops of thank you to my beta chiisai-kitty :)**

...

I asked Eric some more about our travel information, and he told me we'd be flying on Anubis Air—a company that specialized in the transportation of vampires both during the day and also at night. Apparently it was what he used on his trip last week. We'd be taking a private jet, leaving from a private Shreveport airport and landing in a private Dallas airport. Eric was big on privacy.

It was too late for us to start up anything—and I was so exhausted I didn't think I'd be up for it—so we just laid there and talked about nothing important until Eric had to go in my closet.

I went back to sleep after that, finally waking up around eleven. I was tired, but I knew I'd need to power through this day to make sure I had enough of the right clothes to pack. I was a little annoyed that Eric was giving me such a small time frame, but it wasn't his fault. After all, there was a missing vampire in Dallas—it wasn't right for me to dilly dally and wait around until I found shoes that matched my purse.

Once I showered again and had a quick cup of coffee and a bagel, I called Arlene's house to see if she'd want to go shopping with me. No one picked up, so I just assumed she was at work. I called Merlotte's next.

"Merlotte's," Sam said, sounding a little rushed.

"Hey, it's Sookie."

"Sookie, hey. You calling to check in? 'Cause we're all okay, just a little freaked out about what happened to Lafayette," he said.

"What? No, I was calling to see if I could talk to Arlene. Also, I should have called earlier about this, but I'm gonna be out of town for a couple days. But what happened to Lafayette?" I asked.

"Sook … Lafayette's dead. They found his body in Andy Bellefleur's car this morning," Sam said.

"Oh my God. That's awful. Poor Lafayette."

Lafayette and I were close, not as close as Arlene and I, but he was always a fun—though heavily made-up—face behind the grill. He was really good at putting a smile on my face, even though most of the time it was due to me laughing at his ridiculous statements. I already knew I'd miss him bunches.

"Do you know who killed him?" I asked once I was kind of able to absorb the fact that I'd never see him again.

"No idea. Especially because we just managed to put the last serial killer behind bars," Sam lamented. "I have to say, from where I'm standing, things aren't looking so good for Andy Bellefleur though, since it was his car and all. He had a little too much to drink last night, and his sister Portia had to drive him home. Terry was coming into work about an hour ago, walked by the car, and noticed his foot was hanging out of the back seat door. Now the cops are here, taking pictures and removing the body and asking questions and stuff."

"Shit. How's he doing?" I asked, wondering how he'd take seeing a dead body as a troubled army vet.

"Surprisingly good. He's watching some TV now—Bud finished questioning him a couple minutes ago."

"Oh, Sam, I'll be right over. But it's gonna have to be quick, I have to go to Shreveport and pick out clothes to go on this trip I have to go on with Eric. We're leaving for Dallas tonight."

"Nah, don't worry about it. Talking to you is good enough, I feel like we haven't seen each other in forever. So Dallas, huh? What're ya gonna be doing there?"

I quickly filled him in on everything that had happened since I'd seen him last. He tried to be happy when I told him Eric got his memory back, but I didn't call him out on it. He thought—and rightly so—that Eric had acted like an ass after he first got his memories back, and he never was able to get past that. I also told him how if this trip went well and I could find the vampire, then the queen wouldn't make me go live with her. Needless to say, Sam told me to take as many days off as I needed, no matter how many times I told him it'd be really quick. He told me he'd already called in a replacement cook, the one he usually called when he needed help, and that everything would be okay.

"So yeah, no worries. And you said you wanted to talk to Arlene? She's watching TV with Terry, trying to calm down with him. She was really freaked out this morning, but she says she'll be fine once she starts focusing on customers and orders and stuff. Want me to go get her?" Sam asked.

I paused. "Uh, you know what? I forget what I was going to say to here. So I'll just let you get ready for the inevitable big rush you're going to get," I said nervously. No matter how nice it would be to go shopping with Arlene, I knew Sam needed her at Merlotte's, and Terry too. I'd hang out with her after Dallas.

"Whatever you say. And Sook, be safe, you hear? Use your head and, I hate to say it, listen to Eric. I may not be his biggest fan, but he knows what he's doing."

_Especially in bed. Wait, what? Good Lord, you did NOT just think that while talking to Sam_. "Yep. Okay. Bye, Sam. I'll call you when I get back," I said rather quickly.

We hung up, and I set to work getting ready to go to the mall. I felt like I had to dress up and look like I had my own personal shopper in a fancy department store, so I put on a nice pair of jeans and a white button-up shirt, wearing my hair in a braid. I even put on Gran's pearl earrings.

Once I got to the mall (as soon as I started the car up I saw that Pam had even stopped for gas, the sweet thing … never mind that Eric probably made her) and met my personal shopper—Nancy, a middle-aged mother of three boys—I knew I needn't have worried. Nancy was so nice to me, joking that she started shopping for women when she had her boys, and I liked her outfit of a purple wrap dress, a turquoise necklace, and brown boots. I just told her I had to go on a really important business conference and needed to look the part.

"Okay, okay," she said, nodding and tapping her long, pink fingernails on the counter. "I'm thinking skirt-suits, heels, and business-casual attire for going out for drinks after work. How does that sound?"

She was smiling so broadly at me I didn't have the heart to tell her that I wouldn't be going "out for drinks" with a bunch of vampires. "Sounds good to me!" I said cheerfully.

We picked out two skirt-suits, one grey and one black, and two things she called "shells" to wear under them—a yellow for the grey outfit, and a light blue for the black. She also found me a great pair of grey tweed pants that would go with a black button-down I had at home, and also a little black dress, a purple wrap dress that was the exact same one she had on, and a small navy number—I rationalized all of those purchases because I thought I could get a couple extra uses out of it by wearing them to Fangtasia, since they were, as Nancy said, "date dresses."

However, my splurge on a pair of black patent leather stilettos and a pair of red fuck-me-_now_ heels required a lot more rationalizing, one that ended up with me trying to see how many times I'd have to wear them to pay them off. I knew this was the queen's money and based on how she thought of me and how she wanted to use me, I had every right to buy the entire shoe section of the store, but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it.

I felt no trouble over buying Eric a gorgeous turquoise blue cashmere sweater that I instinctively knew would make his eyes look bluer—make them pop, even. I saw it on a display rack as Nancy and I were walking to the cash registers, and I just had to grab one for him. I felt proud that I knew what his size was—and a little dorky about just how proud I felt about that. How many other people could say they knew what size jeans he wore?

It just made me wondrer, did Eric know my dress size? And if he did, did he feel proud about that too?

I made Nancy stop a second time as we walked to the cash registers, but this was for an entirely different reason. It was a longer stop, though—we had passed the makeup counters, and I almost broke down and cried when I saw MAC's crazy colorful station, with green mascara and purple lipstick and blue nail polish. Lafayette would have gone nuts for them.

When all of that was finished, I thanked Nancy profusely and tried to tip her, but she insisted it was all being taken care of. I felt loads lighter, even though I was carrying two big shopping bags and my suits that were put in a garment bag. The total cost had been high, but not high enough for me to feel _that_ guilty.

Once Nancy left, I ducked back and ran into the lingerie section. I'm sorry, but there was no power on Earth that could make me pick out a bra-and-panty set with a woman I just met, no matter how nice she was. After much deliberation, I purchased three pairs of fancy lingerie (in red, black lace, and white), two fancy negligee things in pink and white, and—this made me blush so much when the elderly salesperson rang up my purchases—a racy little red corset and silk garter set, complete with sheer black thigh-highs.

I just hoped the queen wouldn't be looking at her credit card bill too closely.

Well, if she had any problems, I'd just say they were a strategic purchase necessary for keeping the telepath—and her "manager"—happy. Or, rather, I'd have Eric say that, since the queen seemed to prefer talking to him. Not that I minded.

After a smoothie at the food court, I was ready to go home. And at four-thirty, it was only about time. On the ride back over I went over the other things I needed to pack, so when I got home it wasn't as stressful as it could have been. In fact, when Eric woke up at sunset I was starting to lug my suitcase (which, okay, I did need to sit on as I zipped it up, sue me) and carry-on down the stairs.

"Let me," he said as soon as he saw what I was doing. He zoomed over and I handed the bags to him before he zoomed again, this time down the stairs and back. "There, that's better. Now I can kiss you properly, without any distractions," he said, bending down to do just that. Except his kiss wasn't proper at all, much to my liking.

"Hi," I breathed once he pulled away.

Eric laughed. "Hi, Sookie."

"I bought you a sweater today," I said, saying the first thing that came to mind.

Eric's eyes lit up. "You bought me a sweater?"

"Yeah. Wanna see it?"

"Sure," he gamely replied, following me back into the bedroom. I picked up the gift-wrapped box the sales person had wrapped up for me and I handed it to Eric.

He held the box in his hands, staring down at it for the longest time. "The sweater's in the box, you know," I said, trying to tease Eric out of whatever funk he had momentarily slipped in.

"I know that," he replied, "I just can't believe you bought me something on your special shopping trip."

Why did that sound so surprising for him? It seemed normal for me. "Of course I would. The sweater reminded me of you; as soon as I saw it, I knew you should have it."

"Well, then," he murmured, slowly (i.e., human speed) tearing the gold wrapping paper off and opening the box. He lifted the sweater out of the box and held it up, and I knew I was right about the sweater making his eyes pop. "Thank you, Sookie," he said, looking up over the sweater to meet my gaze.

He balled up the sweater and stuffed it back in the box, and though my hands were itching to fold it correctly so it wouldn't wrinkle, I got a little distracted when Eric came over and gave me a kiss on the lips. "You did get clothing for yourself, yes?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, don't worry about that," I said. "Most of it is packed, but I did leave a suit out to wear on the plane, because I didn't know if we were going to the hotel first, or going right on to wherever it is that this Stan-the-sheriff guy's gonna be."

"We'll drive to the hotel first, drop off our stuff, and then Stan's second, Isabel, is going to drive us to their nest. I would wear your suit on the plane."

"Okay. And then what? Are you going to tell me what exactly happened to this missing vampire?"

"I was going to do it on the plane, but I can do it now. His name is Farrell, and he's a member of Stan's nest. I do not know the particulars of how he went missing; Stan wasn't too keen on sharing. It's a big embarrassment that one of his nest mates is missing, and it's even more embarrassing that Stan was forced to look out of his area for help. _Human_ help. I would only do the same if every other option had already been tried, and I am certain Stan is the same way."

"Oh." So the vampires had tried to find this Farrell and couldn't do it. I was just a shot in the dark—one that my whole life was riding on. _Fantastic._

"How did your friend like shopping? Did you get something for her—Rene's lover?" Eric asked abruptly.

"Arlene," I supplied, grateful that he remembered Arlene—although only through her association with Eric's only human enemy, Rene—"and, no, I didn't. Lafayette, the short-order cook at Merlotte's, was found dead today in Merlotte's parking lot, so she had to stay there and work."

Eric's eyes widened. "Then it's a good thing you're leaving for Dallas tonight."

I smacked him in the arm, not hard enough to hurt a human and definitely not hard enough to hurt a vampire, and chided, "Eric! That is so not the point."

He shrugged. "It is for me. I just found the last killer in this town, and a week later there's a new one? I'm glad you're going to be out of town for a few days, or else I'd have to convince you to stay in Shreveport with me."

"Yeah, but I won't be able to help find out who killed Lafayette, and I don't think it's Andy Bellefleur, even though Lafayette was found in Andy's car," I replied.

"The detective?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, that guy. Listen, Eric, I was thinking, if they don't clear up this murder thing by the time I get back, whenever that is—and this is pretty likely, since you know how slow the police department is here—I could do some mind-snooping, see if anyone's thinking anything they shouldn't be."

He didn't say anything for a while, finally saying, "I don't like it."

"Well, I don't like that one of my friends died and I have no idea who did it," I replied fiercely.

He sighed. "We will discuss that later. Are you all packed? I should take another shower. I think I'll wear your sweater tonight," Eric said, and the way he said all that made me think he was trying to distract me from thinking about how to find another killer. You didn't have to be a mind-reader or a feelings-feeler to pick up on that. But I let him, and easily made the topic jump with him.

"Yep, I'm all good. I should probably eat some dinner before we leave, so I'll get to work on that while you shower. And I would be very happy if you wore the sweater tonight," I replied.

He smiled and headed to the bathroom, entering it and then sticking his head out of the doorway to ask, "Would you like to join me?"

From where I was standing in the bedroom, I replied, "No, we don't have that much time, if the driver's supposed to pick us up at six."

He frowned, but a couple seconds later I heard the water go on. He hadn't bothered to close the door.

After changing into my grey suit and the yellow shell—and grabbing the black stilettos for later—I went downstairs and fixed me a salad, which I knew would be quick to both make and eat. Eric joined me a few minutes after I started eating, his hair damp and pulled back in an intricate braid. That sweater looked fantastic on him; the unexpected dash of color really made a difference, after I was so used to seeing him in blacks and dark colors. Or naked. True to Eric form, he had paired it with some black pants and was wearing black socks.

"Hey, I like your sweater. Where'd you get it?" I joked after I swallowed the tomato I'd been chewing on when he first walked in the room.

"Someone very special to me gave it to me as a gift. I like your suit. Where'd you get it?" he replied, walking over to the refrigerator and helping himself to a True Blood. He heated it up in the microwave, and while he was waiting he came over to me and kissed me on the top of my head before going back to retrieve his bottle. He sat across from me once he was all set and took a sip.

"Hardy har har. While we're on this compliment kick, I just have to say, I like the way you braided your hair. It looks amazing. I wish I could do that," I said casually, scratching the back of my neck.

"I can teach you some time, if you like," he offered. "Once you have the same hair cut for a thousand years, you pick up a lot of tricks. Plus, I like being able to wear my hair long now."

I stabbed a carrot with my fork. "What do you mean?"

"Well, from the Victorian era to the middle of the 20th century, it wasn't exactly socially acceptable for a man to have hair as long as mine. I stayed in England during the Victorian era, since I thought it would help Pam's transition if we remained in places somewhat familiar to her, but she had to cut my hair every night so I wouldn't stand out during such a conservative time in society. After the Great Depression we moved to America, but I still had to cut my hair to blend in until the sixties, when it became more commonplace for men to have long hair. I haven't cut my hair since."

He shrugged and took a sip out of his bottle. "The driver's going to be here in fifteen minutes. Is there anything else you need?"

"I just need to stop feeling so nervous."

"About flying?"

"Yeah, and also about finding this vampire … Eric, what if I can't do it? What if I screw up? I mean, if these vampires couldn't find him, what makes them think I can?"

Eric set his bottle down on the table and reached over to take my hand. His thumb rubbing my knuckles, he softly said, "Sookie, you will do great. I know you will. And if it doesn't work out, then we'll think of something else. We're smart people."

I smiled. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Probably?" he teased, lifting an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, you're totally, completely, always right. Whatever."

"_Always._ I liked that one the best."

I snorted. "Yeah, I bet you did."

…

Eric and I made it to the airport without a hitch, after we got picked up in a limo at my house and I had a good time drinking the complimentary champagne and feeling famous. I even stuck my head out of the sunroof window, and after laughing his head off Eric joined me. I couldn't get him to go, "Woo hoo!" with me, but the fact that he was willing to squeeze his body through that little rectangular window was enough for me.

We might have been at a privately-operated airport, but I was still feeling a little overwhelmed by the size and people and planes. Luckily, Eric took care of everything, checking in our bags and personally meeting with our pilots and stewardesses, during which I listened in for anything out of the ordinary just like Eric asked me to. They were all clear, which made me feel better about our upcoming flight—and Eric too, although he'd never admit it.

Of course, that didn't mean I wasn't a little freaked out during take-off. Eric didn't say anything as I gripped his hand almost as hard as when I was attacked by the maenad; he just continued reading the newspaper he had bought and looked up and smiled at me whenever I inhaled a little too loudly. He also pushed comfort and love through our bond, which helped a lot.

Once we were completely in the air—and I explained to Eric why exactly I had to chew gum like I read I should during takeoff, since apparently vampire ears don't pop—I relaxed a little. I was a bit sheepish about my overreaction, but since it was just me and Eric in the private jet, it wasn't that big a deal.

"I'm glad I booked us a private jet, although it would have been interesting to see how you would have reacted if you were on a commercial flight, with seatbelts and crying babies and the like," he said when I apologized.

"Yeah. And thanks again for this. It's really great," I said, sipping on my second glass of champagne of that evening, although I'd only had a few swigs of it in the limo.

"Once you fly like this, it's impossible to go back to commercial," Eric said, sounding only a little pretentious, "unless it's during the day and I'm in a coffin and it's the Anubis Air line … but I didn't want to schedule that and not spend time with you. Plus, I like the privacy here. Want to know why?" He waggled his eyebrows at me, and I already knew what he was going to say.

"Sorry, but that isn't happening. There are other people on this plane, you know."

"Oh, come on, Sookie. You've never had airplane sex. You need to join the mile-high club," he tried.

"Yeah, well, I've never had sex in a garbage truck either, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna flag it down and throw you in there the next time I see one," I retorted, and Eric burst out laughing. Pleased with his reaction, I added, "I'm just too nervous right now to focus on anything other than what's going to happen tonight. But, you know, we do have to take a plane back to Shreveport, right?"

"Right. And Sookie, nothing good will come out of you worrying about worrying. The only thing you'll accomplish is getting yourself worked up about something you can't do anything about, for the time being. Here, would you like to watch a movie on my laptop, or perhaps listen to my iPod?"

"Um, listen to your iPod," I decided, and Eric got out of his leather reclining seat and pulled the device out of his carry-on bag. He handed it to me, and I took it gratefully.

"Have you ever given any thought about having an iPod?" Eric asked seriously.

"Not really, no. I wouldn't have the faintest clue of how to set it up. I don't even own a computer to manage it with, or whatever," I replied distractedly while unraveling the earphones.

Eric nodded thoughtfully and went back to reading his newspaper. I scrolled through Eric's songs and ended up listening to his jazz playlist, falling asleep not too long after I put the white ear buds in.

"Sookie, wake up," was the next thing I heard; someone had taken out the ear buds—the same someone that was talking to me and patting my knee.

"Eric. Hey. Are we there?" I asked groggily.

"Yes, we landed. You should be glad you fell asleep; the landing was a bit bumpy. I thought it'd wake you, but it didn't," he said. He had gotten out of his seat and was standing over mine.

"Oh." I stood up and stretched, and noticed we were all alone. "Where'd everyone else go?"

"They're all off the plane. We should go collect our bags now."

I nodded, and together we got off the plane and got our bags. We didn't have to wait that long, but while we did I watched the swanky people get off of the other private jet that had just rolled in. All the men were dressed like Mister Rogers, and all the women were dressed like Pam on her night off.

It wasn't until after we thanked the pilots and stewardesses and they started to take the plane away that I realized I had to go to the bathroom. Eric pointed me over to where the women's restroom was, and he said he'd find our rental car and call Stan while I was doing my business. After I handed him my bags, we parted ways.

When I returned from the bathroom, Eric was nowhere to be seen, but I wasn't worried; I just figured there was a long line at the rental car place or he was talking to Stan or something. I just did some more people-watching—and night-watching, since the stars looked really pretty—until this bald, middle-aged man in a suit walked up to me.

"Susannah Stackhouse?" he asked hesitantly.

I stared at him. "Yes?"

"The car's all ready," he said, smiling at me.

"Oh. Okay. Where's Eric?"

"Uh, he just had to finish his phone call. He asked me to fetch you so I can start driving you guys sooner."

"Start driving? Eric said he rented a car," I said suspiciously. I put down my shields and tried to read his mind. '_Shit,' _he thought, _'He told me they were going to be driven from the airport, not drive themselves. What do I do now?'_

What did that mean? And who was, 'he?' This wasn't good at all.

"Right. I have to drive you to the rental car place, and then you guys will go," he said nervously, looking around—to see how many people were watching our exchange, I gathered. Fuck.

I wished I had taken my purse with me; then I'd have a can of mace—the same silver mace can I'd bought at Walmart, the one he suggested I bring to Dallas—and I'd feel a lot easier about what was happening. Even though the silver wouldn't have made this guy's skin burn, I was sure it'd make his eyes burn if I got a good shot.

I did some more probing, and saw that the man—his name was Roger—was starting to get a little nervous because this was taking longer than it was supposed to, and there were more people on the incoming plane than expected.

What the hell did that mean? Something was going on here.

"Of course. But, uh, before we go, I need to just stand here a little while … I'm feeling a little nauseous. First time traveling by jet and all," I said as calmly as I could, hoping he wouldn't see past my flimsy excuse. I pushed all the fear and worry and panic and terror I was feeling into the bond, all the while smiling cheerfully—and a little crazily, as I always did when I was nervous—at this man. I didn't want to start screaming and scare him away without knowing who sent him or, worse, have him take me with him, but I wanted Eric to be at my side. Like, two minutes ago.

_"_Okay," he agreed, all smiles, but I could tell he was worried. Eric Northman, the blonde vampire from TV, was supposed to make a phone call, not a long one, and I was taking up too much time, catching on to things I shouldn't be. He was supposed to be leading me to the car right now, not still talking to me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a blur come and stop in front of me. "What happened, Sookie?" Eric asked, looking me straight in the eye. "Is everything okay?"

Roger took one look at Eric and started to run. Eric didn't even ask questions, he just zoomed over and stopped the guy in his tracks. "Sookie, explain," he demanded, easily holding Roger's hands behind his back.

I opened my mouth, but Roger started to yell, "No!" at that exact same time. Eric stared at him and hissed, "Silent, you fool, and don't move," and then Roger shut up, as I predicted he would once I figured out Eric had glamoured him.

Eric looked around at the people staring at us. "He just found out his newest kitten died, the poor soul," he said in the fakest Southern accent, even grinning a little sheepishly. It took all I had not to burst out laughing, but I guessed everyone else bought it: the nosy men and women nodded sympathetically and then quickly lost interest.

Once that was done, Eric looked expectantly at me. Roger looked at the floor. "Eric, this guy, Roger, he knew my name. My full name. He knew what you looked like, and your name, and that you're on TV, and that you were supposed to make a phone call and I'd probably be left alone during it. He thought we had a car arranged, but that he was supposed to be the driver—someone told him we would need to be driven from the airport. Someone told him that, Eric! We're lucky he didn't know we had rented a car for ourselves," I said breathlessly, and Eric's eyes widened.

"I decided early this morning it would be safer for us to have our own car, just in case. We were originally going to have a car waiting for us to take us to the hotel, but I thought maybe you would want to drive around during the day, so I rented a car instead. I called Stan after I took my shower and told him about that; he said it was fine. I referred to you as Sookie in all conversations with him, though," Eric explained.

We both stared at Roger, who was dumbly looking at the floor. "Walk with us," Eric said, and Roger did just that as Eric started leading us down a hallway.

"Eric, I think he was supposed to kidnap me," I hissed, tugging at his elbow and finally saying what I was sure we were both thinking.

"From what you've told me, that sounds about right." For the first time I could ever remember, Eric didn't sound too happy about being right.

Once we approached a black Range Rover that lit up when Eric took keys out of his pocket and pressed the unlock button, I asked, "You're taking him with us?"

He looked sharply at me. "Sookie, I have to. He might have backup here, and it's too risky. I need to question him. You'll drive. I've already hooked up a GPS system set up for the Hotel Carmilla."

Eric handed me the keys and then opened the back seat door. "Get in," he muttered at Roger, and he followed Roger in, shutting the door behind him. As soon as that happened I floored it out of the parking lot. Granted, I wasn't driving as fast as Eric, who deemed it a personal failure if he had to use the breaks, but I was driving pretty damn fast.

"Do you think Stan was behind this?" I asked once I got on the highway, looking in the rearview mirror at Eric.

Eric shook his head. "No, this is too messy for a vampire—too many variables. But I'm assuming someone he knows is."

Then he turned serious, and looked at Roger. "Roger, look at me."

"Okay," Roger said slowly.

"Who sent you?" Eric asked.

"The Fellowship of the Sun," Roger replied. I gasped. Eric and I shared a look with the aid of the rearview mirror.

"Are you a member?" Eric continued.

"No. I was hired just for this job."

"By whom?"

"I don't know. A man. It was done over the phone. He left me money in a locker at the train station."

"What were you hired for?"

"Abduct the woman, Susannah Stackhouse, while the blonde vampire from TV, Eric Northman, made a phone call."

"How did you know Eric Northman would make a phone call?"

"He told me he would."

"How did you know her name was Susannah Stackhouse?" I asked from the front seat, feeling a little weird about referring to myself in third person. But Eric had done the same, so I was just following his example.

"He told me it was. Said there would be a human woman with Eric Northman to help find the missing vampire, Farrell."

"Do you know where he is?" Eric asked quickly.

"No."

"Where were you going to take Susannah Stackhouse?"

"Why, the Fellowship of the Sun church, of course," Roger said plainly.

"I want your answers, not your attitude," Eric growled.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Won't happen again, sir."

Eric wasn't looking in the rearview mirror, but I would have bet my right hand that he was smirking. Or at least looking smug.

"Hand me your cell phone," Eric commanded, and Roger obeyed. I heard the unquestionable sound of buttons being pressed, and then Eric asked, "What's 'his' number?"

"I don't know. It's the last call I recieved," Roger said, and I heard more buttons being pressed.

"Good," Eric muttered, and he thrust the phone back to Roger, who pocketed it.

After that, Eric told Roger to stay quiet the rest of the ride, which he did, but Eric was silent too, thinking.

We had both just been given a lot to think about.


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N: Merci to my beta chiisai-kitty. And thanks to CH for her characters and her stories.**

…

Eric had snapped out of it long enough to call Stan as soon as we were on the highway, telling him that no one should leave or enter the nest because there was a leak. He told Stan everything that happened, how the guy knew what we looked like and what we'd be doing, and he had to repeat himself twice when he told Stan that we were taking the man with us to the nest, to see if he was familiar to anyone. He also gave Stan the number to trace. When Eric hung up he seemed in a better mood.

"Did I tell you about the hotel we're going to be staying at?" he asked suddenly, leaning forward so his head was between the two front seats, to the left of my shoulder.

"No."

"It's called the Hotel Carmilla. It's the only vampire-friendly hotel in Dallas. I booked us a private suite there. I've never been, but I've heard good things about it."

"Oh, you and your vampire gossip," I said playfully, trying to lighten the tension

Eric laughed. We spent the rest of the ride talking about little things, mostly Eric asking questions about the last time I was in Dallas. Though the memories weren't that great for me, I obliged, and it made the time go by quicker. In fact, I almost forgot we had a hostage in the car until I pulled up in front of the hotel and Eric told him he was to stay at his side the whole time, and he wasn't to speak a word.

The hotel was huge. Gorgeous, but huge. It was a big gothic hotel that looked out of place sandwiched in between all the modern skyscrapers, but I liked it.

Eric was busy tipping the valet when the bellhop came over and started unloading our bags from the car, carrying them onto a rolling cart. Eric walked over—with Roger obediently at his side—and slipped an arm around my waist, and when the bellhop was all finished he turned to us and said, "Welcome to the Hotel Carmilla. My name is Barry, and I'll—" Eric stepped forward into the light, and Barry took one look at him and weakly finished, "I'll be your porter."

"Thanks, Barry," I said very kindly. He seemed very young, nineteen maybe, and his hands were trembling—he probably didn't even notice it, the poor thing.

I cast a mental net out to see what was the cause of his distress, and was startled to find he was a telepath—he was thinking about how he could tell Eric was a vampire since he was pale and didn't have any thoughts, but it was odd that he couldn't "read" me, even though I was tan and human, or why Roger didn't have any thoughts to read. He was really freaked out about it.

After a quick scan, I realized that his organization and development was even worse than it was for me when I was in my late teens. He was probably closer to where I was at age twelve or something like that. He was terribly confused about me, and I wanted to think something comforting at him, but realized now was probably not the best time for either of us. I made a mental note—one that he couldn't hear, obviously—to remember Barry the bellboy (the alliteration should make it easy enough) and seek him out later, to help him with his telepathy.

"I'll just follow you with your luggage," Barry mumbled after a beat, eyes trained on the pavement. Eric stared at him like he said he'd like to join us in bed, and I had to nudge Eric forward.

"I'll tell you later," I whispered in his ear, and he nodded in response. I couldn't help but wonder why Barry had chosen to work in a hotel that catered specifically to vampires. I would have guessed it was because he couldn't read vampires, which is the only reason why I would have agreed to work at the Hotel Carmilla, but if that was the case, then why did the sight of Eric unnerve Barry so much?

We walked into the hotel lobby, and it was almost even more beautiful than the exterior of the building. It was done up in rich tones of cream and cranberry, with wood paneling and wooden floors. It looked very luxurious, like the exact kind of hotel Eric would pick out for us. It wasn't until I heard Barry think, _'Oh shit, there's another one,_' that I realized Eric was guiding me, and by association, Roger, over to where another vampire was waiting in the lobby.

Now, _she_ looked like one of the vampires you should be scared of. She was tiny, maybe 5'2" at the most without wearing those sky-high olive pumps, but the determined gaze in her dark brown eyes more than made up for it. She was wearing a little blazer-and-skirt combo like me, only hers was a spotless white … and much shorter and indecent than mine. Her brown hair was pulled back into a severe bun, which only contributed to the whole pint-size terror thing she had going on.

Eric seemed nonplussed. "Isabel," he said cordially, nodding his head at her. She nodded icily in response. I guessed vampires weren't very touchy-feely all around, not just with humans.

"Northman," she said. She looked down her nose at Roger, who didn't have the sense to be scared. "Rat." She turned to me, where I had partially tucked myself behind Eric so as to escape her gaze, and said, "Telepath. Sookie Stackhouse."

"Yes, yes I am. It's nice to meet you," I said, glad Barry had already moved on and was talking to the concierge. I was watching him, and he hadn't turned around when Isabel said that, so I guessed my cover wasn't blown.

She nodded at me, which seemed like all I was going to get from her. I was just glad I didn't stick my hand out, although with the way she carried herself it would have been more appropriate to curtsy to Her Royal Haughtiness.

"Once you check in and take care of your needs, you are to come with me," she said. "I'll stay with the rat."

"Very well," Eric replied easily, and with that, she turned on her heel and left us alone, thank God.

Eric calmly checked us in, but I was fidgety. As soon as we got in the elevator and the doors closed, I finally said what I'd been thinking the whole time Eric was confirming the number of beds (one) and other tiny details I didn't have to worry about. "If she's Stan's underling and she acts like that, what the hell does Stan act like?"

Eric laughed. "Oh, Stan's nothing like Isabel. She was a Romanian peasant in the sixteenth century, and she never really lost that."

He paused, then added in a more serious tone, "I should warn you, the Dallas vampires are nothing like the Shreveport vampires."

"Oh yeah? How?" I asked.

"For starters, they aren't going to be as respectful of you as the Shreveport ones are—mostly because they won't nearly be as respectful as me as the Shreveport ones are, just because we aren't from around here. But more importantly, they are mostly rogue vampires, vampires that don't drink True Blood and aren't afraid to admit it. They're basically vampire cowboys, with no respect for the law or society. To them, we never should have revealed ourselves as vampires. If they think the Fellowship of the Sun took Farrell like I secretly suspect, then there is no doubt in my mind that they wouldn't retaliate violently."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said weakly as we finally arrived at our floor.

Eric booked us the biggest suite the hotel had to offer, and it was, without a doubt, the nicest place I'd ever been in. There was a huge light-safe bedroom with a big bed (not that that was the first thing I noticed about the room) as well as a living room, a little kitchenette, and a big bathroom with a shower, a Jacuzzi, and a freaking bidet—I had never even seen one in person before, and definitely hadn't expected to see one in a vampire hotel. Everything was decorated in reds and blacks and grays—like Fangtasia, only much, much fancier. Not that I was going to say that to Eric.

The view was beautiful—you could see the whole city from here, and it was a pretty sight. After Eric and I set our luggage in the bedroom, the first thing we did was step outside on to the balcony and look at the scenery. Eric looked pretty pleased with himself for booking such a nice suite, and I thanked him for picking this out.

"My pleasure," he said, kissing me. "We're going to have a lot of fun in this suite, I can already tell. Did you see the size of the Jacuzzi?"

"Ahh, you liked the shower sex, did you? Ready to upgrade?" I teased in between kisses.

"And you didn't like the shower sex? I remember you did. Twice," he murmured, his lips just barely not touching mine.

I didn't have anything to say to that, so I just kissed him so he'd forget about my lack of comeback.

Once I remembered Isabel—and Roger—were waiting for us in the lobby, I had to break it off and mutter, "Let's just go and get this over with."

"My thoughts exactly, lover," Eric said. We walked back inside, and I went to fetch my purse.

"Ah, you shouldn't bring that," he said, watching me.

I turned around, surprise written all over my face. "Why not? It's a nice purse."

He laughed. "Yes, it is. But, it's just a diplomatic gesture, an important one considering what has just happened. You could hide something in there, like a stake. Not that you would, but it's just for appearances. You understand."

"Oh. Okay. Sure." I fumbled in there and reapplied my lipstick, and then I put my cell phone in my skirt pocket. It was decided that Eric would hold the room key, since I wouldn't be going anywhere without him. The cell phone was my own decision, since I remembered how helpless I had felt earlier without it, when the priest was talking to me.

When we walked back into the lobby, Isabel was waiting near the door, with Roger sitting down on the lobby floor like he was a dog sitting next to his owner. Guess that pretty much summed up her view of humans.

"Up," she said to Roger, and he stood up. "Let's go," she said to me and Eric before all but strutting out the front door. Poor Barry could hardly open it fast enough for her; I noticed he kept his eyes on the ground the whole time, even when I walked through the doors.

Isabel's car was a shiny black Lexus, and as soon as she was given the keys she was in the driver's seat. Eric took the passenger seat, leaving the mortals doomed to the back seat. Big surprise. But, I was a little shocked to see that Isabel waited until I had clicked in my seatbelt—and told Eric to glamour Roger into doing the same, even though neither of the vampires even looked at their own seatbelts—to start driving. Huh.

She drove very fast for the first couple of minutes, until all of a sudden she slowed down to only twenty miles over the speed limit and started pointing out famous Dallas landmarks, like hotels or restaurants. During this time Eric somehow managed to sneak his right arm behind his seat and blindly pat my leg; I knew he could pick up on my surprise and delight, even when it more than doubled because of his sweet gesture.

We drove for at least twenty more minutes, leaving the uptown business area and gradually entering a residential one. The house—no, mansion—that Isabel finally stopped at was the biggest house I had ever seen in real life. The patch of land it was on was more like an outline than a yard, that's how big the house was. I had to admit, it looked a little stupid. But it wasn't like the vampires needed a big yard anyway. I almost snorted imagining Isabel and this Stan, whoever he was, playing catch in the backyard.

We parked on the street in front of the mansion, and Eric opened the door for me. "Don't be scared," he said comfortingly. Or, it was comfortingly until he reminded me, "They'll be able to smell it."

_Great._

I did a mental head count—there sure were a lot of blank spots in the house, vampire minds. There was a hell of a lot more vampires than humans in there.

Isabel told Roger to walk next to her, and together they led us up the driveway. The light over the door was on for my benefit, I assumed, since any vampire would be able to see the brick house and white trim. Just like Pam's nest, it didn't look the kind of house that a vampire—or nest of vampires—would call home. Isabel opened the door for us (it was locked, unsurprisingly) and ushered us inside.

I counted at least thirteen vampires all in one room, which was strange to me. Human brains were scattered all around the house, but the vampires were in one big concentrated area. Huh.

I noticed, with some shock, a human male in the kitchen, closing the refrigerator door as we walked past him. He looked just as shocked to see me as I did him. I turned around once we walked past him, and he was still staring after us. Did he live here, or was he hired help? He was wearing khakis and a plaid shirt, but I didn't have time—or the guts—to ask, since Isabel was click-clacking her way down the hall and all Eric and I could do was follow her.

Eric was very calm, so calm he was sending calmness through the bond. I was grateful, for that, and squeezed his hand to say thank you. His walk took on the cocky Sheriff strut I was used to seeing at Fangtasia, most notably when Eric had to talk to Bill—it was a little more confident than it normally was, and his stride was much bigger. He had smiled at me over his shoulder when I did that.

Among all the vampires in the house, I quickly spotted the leader. Who else would be sitting at the head of the world's longest table in the large dining room? But I was surprised by what I saw. Since Eric was the only Sheriff I knew, I expected the Dallas one to be like Eric—tall, big, and strong. But Stan wasn't. I'm sorry, but he was a total geek. He was even wearing glasses! _Glasses!_

"Eric Northman," Stan said, standing up when we entered the room. He didn't offer us a seat, choosing instead to walk over to us. He stopped a polite distance away and nodded at Eric.

Upon second thought, maybe he was just carefully disguised as a geek His sandy hair was slicked back, his physique was small and unimpressive, and he was wearing pleated khakis—_pleated khakis!_—and a white button-down shirt.

No stranger to vampire politics, Eric nodded his head and replied, "Stan Davis."

"This is the Fellowship leak, I assume?" Stan said, jutting his chin at Roger, who was standing next to Isabel. She was holding him gruffly by the neck.

"Yes. As I said, we found him at the airport," Eric explained.

"I see. Isabel, take him to the basement and chain him up. When you are finished, you may join us in the study."

"Yes, sir," she said dutifully before she turned and walked out of the room, dragging Roger with her.

"You must be the telepath," Stan said finally, his pale blue eyes fixed on me.

"Sookie Stackhouse," Eric said for me.

"Ah, yes. Welcome, Sookie Stackhouse the telepath. You can call me Stan," Stan said. He nodded for me.

"It's nice to meet you, Stan," I politely replied, surprised he was allowing me to call him by his first name.

And then any progress I had established was dashed when he turned to Eric and commented, "Your woman comes in an agreeable package."

Eric just smiled while I tried my best not to let my shock appear on my face. But damn, it was hard. Was that meant to be a compliment? If so, it seemed more geared towards Eric than me. It was kind of a lame compliment either way.

Vampires didn't waste time saying a lot of things humans would under similar circumstances. A human would ask Eric how he was doing, or maybe even introduce Eric and me to at least the more important people in the room. Not Stan Davis, head vampire. It made me wonder what Eric would do, if some other vampire Sheriff and his human came to Fangtasia for business.

"Come. We'll talk in my study; we'll have total privacy," Stan said. After glancing at each other, Eric and I followed him down the hall. If any of the other vampires seemed surprised or put out, they didn't let it show. No one moved, at least, until Eric and I were out of the room.

"I already interrogated every one of them; no one had any idea. When I took your initial call detailing your decision to rent a car, I was alone in this room. This phone has its own number, so no one could have possibly been listening in. I took all your calls with this phone, in fact," Stan explained over his shoulder. He stopped at a set of big wooden doors and opened them up.

His office was impressive. There were many books on the shelves and paintings on the walls. Maybe Stan was a geek in real life after all.

Stan offered us two rolling chairs in front of his desk; I sat in mine, but Eric stood next to his, all power play. Stan didn't say anything, but he did sit down in his own chair.

He waited a moment before asking Eric, "Tell me, do you have any Fellowship of the Sun trouble in your area, Eric?"

Eric shook his head. "There's no presence of it in Area Five. Everything I know about the group comes from other vampires or the press."

"Ah, the press. I forgot Reverend Newlin was killed shortly after your fifteen minutes in the spotlight."

Eric curtly tipped his chin up in response. I said and did nothing.

"Do you know that the man had a son who wasn't in the car that day?" Stan asked.

"Yes. Did you, Sookie?" he said to me, including me in the conversation.

"No, I didn't," I said.

"Well, he does," Stan informed us. "His name is Steve Newlin. He's a reverend too, the product of the late reverend's first marriage. He and his wife have taken over the organization since the elder Newlin's tragic death." He sighed wearily, looking and sounding so much like a human. "In the days following the accident, there has been more Fellowship activity—nothing big, just some graffiti and burning crosses. The group is relatively harmless, or so we thought until tonight. If Farrell, a vampire of over three hundred years, could be captured by them, then we need to reevaluate our assessment of the group. And, more importantly, find where they are keeping him, and what they plan to do with him."

"Of course," Eric agreed, but when he didn't say anything else I spoke up and asked something I'd been wondering all night.

"Roger said he was to take me to the Fellowship of the Sun church. Do you know where that is?"

Looking surprised, Stan replied, "Yes, I do. Why?"

"It's just a hunch, but my guess would be that is where they are keeping him. If not, it'd be a good place to start looking for him."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Stan said a little stiffly.

"With me."

Two blonde heads swiveled towards mine, Stan interested, Eric … I couldn't even tell. He had just shut down his side of the bond.

Forgetting all about Stan, I shot him a look. What the hell did he do that for? He shook his head fractionally and instead said, "What do you mean, Sookie?"

"Yes, what_ do_ you mean?" Stan said.

"Well, the Fellowship of the Sun only knew my name, right? Not what I looked like. Roger kept identifying Eric Northman as the blonde vampire from TV, but I was only described as the woman."

"We still don't know how they knew that," Stan said, thinking out loud.

"Or how they knew I was going to be there," I piped up.

If there's anything worse than being stared at by a vampire, it's being stared at by two vampires. Especially when they're staring at you like you just told them you had coffee with Jesus Christ.

"It's no secret that to get all the information they have, there's a traitor here," Stan said tensely. I remembered what Eric said about Stan being embarrassed about having to ask for help, and I would have bet he was now even more embarrassed about having a traitor living with him.

I picked up a notepad lying on the table and wrote, "MAYBE YOU'RE BUGGED."

Stan looked incredulous, Eric thoughtful. Neither of them said anything.

Well, to heck with them. They could stand—or sit, in Stan's case—around and make faces at each other, but I was going to actually do something about it. Stan had put such an emphasis on this being a private room and stuff, so the only way someone could have known what was spoken here was if they planted some sort of recording device. I figured if someone had planted a bug in this room, they'd done it in a hurry and they'd been scared to death—this was the Sheriff's private office, after all. I felt nervous just being in here, and I was invited. So the bug would be close and not well hidden—under a chair or a desk, maybe. I shrugged off the gray jacket and held it out for Eric; he silently took it and smoothly folded it over his arm. Since I was a human and had no dignity to lose in Stan's eyes, I dropped to my knees, pushing away the rolling chair as I went.

I patted around under my chair and then Eric's, but didn't feel anything. I tried under the rug and came up blank. As I gathered enough courage to go over and ask Stan to get up so I could feel around on the bottom of his chair, I decided to check under the desk.

And then, thankfully, I felt a bump. I looked at it as closely as I could without a flashlight, and I saw that it was _not_ old gum.

Having found the little electronic device, I didn't know what to do. I crawled out, silently bemoaning how my pantyhose had been torn, and found myself right at Eric's feet. He extended the hand that wasn't holding my suit jacket, and he gently lifted it up. Stan was looking at me with such a bemused expression on his face I was glad I hadn't just made a fool out of myself for nothing. Staring straight at him, I pointed under the table and then tapped my ear to show it was a listening device.

Stan's eyes widened, and then they looked over my shoulder at Eric. Stan jutted his chin out the door, and I heard Eric zoom out of the room, throwing the doors open.

Well, now it was just me and Stan, Stan who looked murderous. I don't know if my finding the bug improved my status in his eyes, or if he just didn't care what the human saw, but he was livid and wasn't afraid to show it. He had in fact been betrayed, but not just the way he thought.

There was just too much silence. "So … what's the weather like down here?" I asked awkwardly. Stan just stared at me.

Well, so much for that.

I was very relieved when I heard a noise behind me and I turned around to see Eric coming in through the doors. I also saw Isabel and the same man who was in the kitchen following behind him—the human was carrying a bowl of water, interestingly enough.

I opened my mouth to ask what was that all about, but Eric shook his head so I closed it.

Isabel said abruptly, "You stupid human! You've spilled my drink!" and bent down past me to snatch the bug from under the table and drop it in the water. Oh, I get it. Then Isabel, walking even more smoothly to keep the water from slopping over the sides of the bowl, left the room. Her companion remained behind.

That had been disposed of simply enough. And it was at least possible that whoever had been listening in had been fooled by that little bit of dialogue. It seemed kind of lame, but I couldn't think of anything else.

"Isabel says you have reason to think Farrell might have been abducted by the Fellowship," the human man said. "Maybe this Sookie and I could go to the Fellowship Center tomorrow, and try to find out if there's anything suspicious there."

Eric and Stan regarded him thoughtfully. Eric handed me my blazer, and I put it back on thankfully.

"That's a good idea," Stan said. "A couple would seem less noticeable."

"I was going to suggest that I go infiltrate before the whole bug thing," I said. "Just to get the layout of the place. If you think there's really a chance Farrell's being held there."

I didn't add that if I could find out more about the situation at the Fellowship Center, maybe I could keep the vampires from attacking. They sure weren't going to go down to the police station to file a missing persons report to prod the police into searching the Center. From what Eric said, they'd just go to the Fellowship Center and take matters into their own hands. If I did manage to get in the church, then I could maybe prevent that from happening, and locate the missing Farrell, too.

"I think that's a great idea," the man said. Eric and I looked at each other like, who _is _this guy?

"This is Isabel's human, Hugo," Stan said. I tried to keep my face straight, even though I was astonished Isabel had a human after the way she treated Roger. Maybe that was just because he was a rat?

Stan closed his eyes, and a few seconds later Isabel glided in. Had he called for her? Was she his progeny?

Hugo's demeanor changed drastically once she walked in the room; he had straightened and puffed out his chest as he stared at her, watching her every move with big puppy eyes. As cute as it was, I certainly hoped I didn't look like that around Eric. Especially with the puffing-out-the-chest part.

"Isabel, your man has volunteered to go with Sookie to the Fellowship of the Sun Center. Can he be convincing as a potential convert?" Stan asked.

I wondered why he hadn't asked Eric that same question, since Stan thought I was Eric's human. I looked over at Eric and he was staring at the floor, wearing that serious face he wore whenever he was thinking too hard.

"Yes, I think he can," Isabel said proudly. She looked over at Hugo and he nodded enthusiastically.

I peeked into his mind, even though after a few seconds I knew I didn't need to. Hugo loved Isabel as much as you could love someone other than yourself. He knew this would make her happy, and make her boss happy, and though he was a little put out that she wanted him to pretend to be married to another woman he was willing to do it for her.

"Very well. Do you know of any visitors to the house today?" Stan asked thoughtfully.

Isabel shook her head sadly. "No, none that I know of. And I would know."

"Yes," Stan said wearily.

"Wouldn't they have to be in the house earlier than today to be privy to such top-secret details? We've been discussing this for much more than just today," Eric said.

"I suppose you're right," Stan admitted. He and Isabel shared a look but neither said anything.

"What are you going to do about Roger?" I asked in the silence that followed.

"Roger?" Stan stared at me.

"Yeah … the leak," I said, thinking he probably hadn't bothered to remember _the leak's_ name.

He shrugged. "What about him?"

"Well, the Fellowship's probably wondering where he is, and if he managed to catch me. If he doesn't show up, that'd seem pretty suspicious, don't you think?"

Eric's eyes were burning blue as they bore into me, and I wondered if I said too much.

"What are you suggesting?" Stan asked, a little defensively.

"Um, you could glamour him into thinking that the flight came, but Eric and I weren't on it. He'd go back and report that to the Fellowship, and then they wouldn't suspect anything."

Stan stared at me for the longest time. He wasn't trying to glamour me, but to anyone watching it would have appeared that way, that's how intense he looked right now. He finally promised, "You have my word we will glamour Roger and do as you suggested. I'll even glamour him myself."

"Okay. Great. Uh, one more thing: how did Farrell get 'captured' by them if they're supposed to be so harmless?" I asked innocently.

Stan looked at me like … how you'd look at a skunk if he or she started quoting Shakespeare. If that ever happened. "The last sighting of Farrell was at a night club, The Vampire State Building."

"_The Vampire State Building?" _I laughed at the same time Eric icily said, "Why did I not know about that?"

Um, good to know we had our priorities straight. And unfortunately for Eric, Fangtasia was no longer the corniest bar name I'd ever heard of. But something told me now was not the time to tell him that.

Stan ignored me, and turned to Eric. "We glamoured witnesses last night, and also watched the security footage taken from the night of the abduction. We wanted to see if your telepath would come to the same conclusion as we did. A test, more or less. I've just decided we don't need her to read the same people we glamoured, because she has proven herself with the bug and the attempted kidnapping."

Taking a step towards Stan, Eric stared at him, a maddening glint in his eye. Even though I couldn't feel his anger, I could see it: his fangs made an audible click as he hissed, "Why would you do that? What do we have to gain from this? We are doing this as a _favor_ to you. You came to us."

Stan's fangs popped down too as he challenged, "Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing if the situation was reversed."

I had to admit, that did seem like an Eric thing to do. I could tell he did too, as his shoulders became less rigid and he stepped backwards. After a moment, his fangs disappeared, and then Stan's did too. Even so, the tension was suffocating. And not just for the breather.

"What happened, then? I hope it was worth all the trouble," Eric spat out bitterly, and uncharacteristically.

"Five days ago Farrell was at this bar, a usual occurrence, and was approached by a man we believe to be human. Based on the security feed, they both went into the men's room. Unfortunately, the bar doesn't have video cameras in the bathrooms, and the two slipped out of the club undetected. Farrell's daytime man approached us the next night when Farrell didn't return his calls. That's all we have."

I yawned suddenly, and even though it wasn't very loud, everyone turned to stare at me.

"Eric, your human is tired," Stan said, almost sounding amused.

"She's had an exhausting night. But I suppose I should thank you for helping with her workload," Eric said archly.

"Eric, Stan, enough. What's done is done. Perhaps we were a bit hasty in starting this investigation without you, Eric, but you know you would have done the same. We have to move on and work together now to find Farrell, and we can only rely on the telepath, whom we trust," Isabel said, stepping in between Eric and Stan and acting as the peace maker.

"Stan, it's all right. I hope you've learned your lesson. I think it'd be better if Eric and I leave now so everyone can just cool off. I'll still help you find Farrell, and I'll still infiltrate the church with Hugo, but I'm tired, I'm worn out, and I'd like to go back to the hotel and take my heels off," I said.

Stan gazed at me, his glasses making his eyes even bigger and more distant. Finally, he replied, "I understand. Sookie, you and Eric are free to leave."

I was surprised that he called me by my name for the first time that night, but decided it was because I'd earned my keep, finding the bug and suggesting the glamour.

I smiled gratefully at Stan, then shot a look at Eric and started walking towards the door, brushing past Isabel and Hugo without a second glance.

I could hear Eric walking behind me, but he must have paused and turned around, because his footsteps stopped once Stan called out, "Eric, there'll be a call from me later tonight."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," he replied, and then he started walking again so I did too. When I heard a third pair of shoes—heels—I turned around to see Isabel walking behind him. Right, I forgot about her.

We got back in her Lexus and drove back to the hotel. I didn't say a damn thing the whole car ride, but I heard Eric and Isabel talking quietly in the front. About what, I didn't know. I didn't fall asleep, but I was pretty damn close to it.

I became more awake once I saw that we were in front of the bright lights that were Hotel Carmilla. After thanking Isabel and promising to see her tomorrow night, I let Eric lead me into the hotel, where Barry was nowhere to be seen. His shift had probably ended; it was pretty late.

Not late enough to debate, or so Eric deemed it once we arrived in our room. Once he finished locking the door and closing the blinds, he came over and sat next to me on the couch where I was taking my heels off.

"We need to talk," he said.

_Uh-oh._

I was already shrugging off my suit coat. "About what?"

Eric replied, "You know what. Your offering to go into the Fellowship of the Sun, during the day, when I can't protect you."

By this point I was sitting on the couch taking off my shoes—they were pretty to look at, but not pretty to stand in all night—and Eric had walked over in front of me.

"Are you saying I shouldn't do it?" I asked, more awake than ever. I stood up to face him, even though with the height differential the gesture didn't make as much of an impact as I wanted it to.

"I know that won't get me anywhere," Eric admitted, "and quite frankly, it's a better plan than anything I can come up with at the moment. But if you're going to do it, we need to plot out every small and insignificant detail."

"Like what?" I asked, sitting down once I knew I wasn't going to have to fight with Eric. Needless to say, I was incredibly relieved about that.

He sat down next to me, hunching forward. "For starters, I already voiced my biggest concern. The best way for you to get inside the church is during the day, and I won't be able to help you if something comes up. I'll be able to feel it, but I won't be able to do anything until it's possibly too late."

"I'll be with Hugo if anything happens."

Eric shook his head. "Sookie, we both know that isn't enough. And we don't really know that much about him either. We just met him tonight, and already you trust him with your life."

"Isabel and Stan trust him, and they've known him much longer and, especially for Isabel, more intimately than us," I pointed out.

"Yes, well, we've seen how much Isabel and Stan trust us. More importantly, Isabel doesn't have to worry about her human becoming the property of the queen of Louisiana," Eric said testily. "That's the only reason why I'm even _considering _you doing what you've proposed, because if everything works out then you'll be free. And it's such a big risk, Sookie, how can you not see that? What if you manage to get in the church, and they moved Farrell, or he's already dead, like I suspect he might be? Then what? "

I sputtered, trying to come up with a good answer. "Then we'll tell the queen that I used my telepathic abilities to find out where Farrell had been. She doesn't care if the vampire's alive, does she? I mean, why would she? He doesn't live in her territory. I bet she didn't even know his name until this whole thing came out."

I paused, and when Eric didn't say anything I knew I was right. Picking up where I left off, I continued, "Look, all she cares about is that I can do my job, and I've already done it tonight by catching the driver and figuring out Farrell's with the Fellowship. Stan knows I'm trying my best, he'll back us up that I did everything I could. I think I already impressed him enough tonight that we could count on his recommendation, for lack of a better phrase."

"Sookie, that's all very well and true, but you're forgetting that can only happen if you survive going in and out of that church in the middle of the fucking day," Eric replied. He abruptly stood up and started pacing, which scared me more than if he had started yelling and throwing things. Eric wasn't a pacer.

"You're treating me like I haven't been walking around in the daytime my whole life," I said, starting to get a little pissy.

"No, I'm treating you like I love you and am afraid to lose you in a dangerous risk you're convinced you need to take when in reality you don't have to do it," Eric retutned. He stopped pacing long enough to raise an eyebrow at me.

Now that the ball was in my court, I didn't know how to reply to that. But I wasn't even given the chance to, since Eric's cell phone rang in that second. He took one look at the screen and swore under his breath, then stormed outside to take the call.

He was out there for a long time—he was pacing on the balcony when I finally gathered myself up to take a long, hot shower, and he was pacing on the balcony when I got out of the shower. I didn't bother with one of the new negligees, instead opting for a pair of sweats and a tee shirt. I unpacked everything in my suitcase and almost did the same for Eric, but I didn't want to upset him even more.

I wished he had thought to tell me who he was talking to this whole time, but I guessed it was Stan, or maybe the queen. I drifted off to sleep wondering.

I woke up some time later to the sound of something I couldn't see in the darkness of the room. Frightened, I scrambled to turn on the light, and then I saw that Eric was hunched over the desk in the corner of the bedroom with his back to me, a pen in his hand and the hotel's complimentary pad of paper on the desk.

He whipped his head around once I turned the light on, and his features softened once he saw I was awake.

"Hey," I said quietly, my voice scratchy with sleep.

"Hey," Eric said back to me. He set the pen down on the table, but other than that he didn't move.

I got out of the bed and walked over to where he was sitting. After a moment of hesitation, wondering how he'd react, I went ahead and sat on his lap, my legs dangling off the side of the chair, and put my arms around his neck, hugging him. He put his arms around my back and nestled his face in the crook of my neck. I don't know how long we stayed like that.

Even though my action just there spoke louder than any words, I still said, "I shouldn't have lost my temper with you. It's not your fault."

Eric lifted his head up and admitted, "If you tell anyone this, I will deny it forever and reveal that you have a Vanilla Ice poster tucked in the back of your closet … but I usually like arguments, and I didn't enjoy that one at all."

"I won't tell anyone," I promised, "if you don't tell anyone about the Vanilla Ice poster. I can't believe you found that."

He laughed, a little lower than he usually did, but he laughed all the same. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Good." I smiled, and then closed my eyes as he kissed me on the forehead.

"What's all this?" I asked, noticing the paper on the table. It was Eric's same chicken scratch handwriting—the kind that looks like he writes as quickly as possible so he can move on to the next word—but it wasn't in English.

Eric followed my gaze. "I was trying to come up with a better plan to find Farrell. It's in Old Norse, my birth language. It's easier for me to think and write in that when I need things to get done, rather than English, which I've only been speaking for about three hundred years."

"Oh, _only_ three hundred years. Pffft," I teased, poking Eric on the nose.

Eric laughed into my shoulder, his chest rumbling.

"Did it work? Did you think of another option?" I asked, running my hands through his hair.

"Hundreds, but none of them as good or easy as you simply going to the church, I'm afraid." He sighed heavily, looking so much older than he normally did. I cupped his cheek with my hand, and he turned his face towards it, nuzzling.

Eric continued, eyes on the floor, "Stan traced the number Roger gave us back to Steve Newlin's personal cell phone, yet he still wants you to go to the church. Apparently Isabel has no qualms about sending her human in with you. You're the one who came up with the whole idea. It seems I'm the only one who has a problem with it, and majority rules. Never mind that I'm the oldest and the strongest and the smartest out of everyone involved. Never mind that I'm the one with the most to lose, or gain."

I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. Now staring at the papers, he said, "We're to meet with Stan early tomorrow night to discuss everything, get the appropriate props and storylines. Isabel even found a fake engagement ring for your fake fiancé to give you. And I'm powerless to stop it, more powerless than I've ever been in my vampire existence, and maybe even some of my human existence. I don't know what to do with this feeling."

"Is that why you shut off the bond, back at Stan's?" I asked, wondering why I wasn't feeling his despair.

He nodded. "I had to. I couldn't risk showing it, or having you show it. I can't show my vulnerability or weakness to anyone but you, and I can't tell that to anyone but you, because it's all about politics and appearances. And politics got you into this mess, and appearances will either lift you out of it or leave you to your fate. And I can't even do anything about it."

"Hey now, remember what you said to me, on the plane?" I said, alarmed at how worked up Eric was getting over this. I was not used to cynical Eric.

"I said a lot to you on the plane," he muttered.

I ignored the dig, knowing that he was just stressed. Of course, that didn't make it easier, but I'd be freaking out if I was in his shoes. "You told me nothing good would come out of worrying. You've done that all night, and look where that's gotten you! You're in the same spot as before, only now you're even more freaked out. You just need to stop thinking circles around yourself and do something else with your time."

He looked at me—it was almost like a Stan-look, that's how intense it was—and then he kind of deflated. "Sure."

"That doesn't sound very reassuring," I noted.

"I know you meant well, Sookie, but I'm not feeling very reassured. I should let you get back to sleep." He started to move to get up, and I very reluctantly slid off his lap.

Once he was standing, he absently kissed me on the top of my head and started for the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I just need to clear my head," he muttered, not turning around, and then he was out of the room, closing the door behind him.

I made my way over to the bed and face-planted into the pillows, hoping that would muffle my sounds of crying. Apparently it did, or Eric just didn't care, because I wasn't interrupted.

It wasn't until I stopped being sad and started getting mad—in simplest terms—that I rubbed my eyes with the bottom of my shirt and resolved to see where Eric went to "clear his head." How dare he just storm off like that! Did he think he was the only one with misgivings about this? Fuck no!

He wasn't in the bathroom or the bedroom or the little kitchenette, and I was getting hopping mad. If he went down to the bar, or if he was off feeding on one of those blood donors I saw down there, I'd stake him in his sleep. I was pissed off but glad I had thought to close my side of the bond off right before I started crying. I wanted to surprise him with my anger.

And when I finally found Eric, I couldn't. I opened the door to the balcony and saw Eric slumped over the railing, his hands gripping the thin metal so hard he had dented it downwards. When I walked up next to him, I saw a mess of bloody tears running down his cheeks, his nose, his neck, and eventually onto his beautiful bright blue sweater.

Fuck the stains. I had never seen Eric cry.

I wondered if anyone ever had.

Though I knew he must have seen or smelled or felt me, he didn't turn to look at me, didn't say anything. All the fight went out of me just looking at him, and I just wrapped an arm around his waist and tethered myself to him. Still not looking at me, still not saying anything, he wordlessly put his arm around my shoulder and drew me closer to him.

"I love you, you know that, right?" I murmured.

"I do. And I love you too," he softly replied.

"I know."

...

**A/N: Just throwing this out here….**

**After being asked by a lot of people for an Eric POV, I started thinking about writing a companion story to Dead To My World, told entirely in EPOV—starting from his running down the road and ending where this story is going to end. The best way to describe it would be kind of like what (I can't believe I'm referencing this) Stephanie Meyer did when she was going to write **_**Twilight**_** from Edward's POV. Now that there's only about seven or eight chapters left to this story—GASP!—I've been seriously considering writing that companion story and calling it Dead To My World: Eric or something like that.**

**So the big question is … as followers of this story, would you be interested in reading something like that? Or are you just fine with reading DTMW, because that's already too much? **

**LET ME KNOW!**


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N: Sorry it's kinda been a while ... but if it's any consolation there should be a lot more DTMW updates coming up, thanks to my awesome beta chiisai-kity and her fast reading skills!**

...

For all of our snickerings and innuendos and leerings yesterday, Eric and I didn't sleep together. In that way. We did sleep together, Eric's arms wrapped tightly around me, us spooning. It was how I woke up, in fact. It took a bit of work to loosen Eric's grip for me to slip out from his arms, but it finally happened.

I looked down at Eric lying down on the bed. He seemed much more peaceful than he was last night, or any of the other nights. Though we'd been through so much together—and apart, I had to admit—I had never actually seen what Eric looked like during the day. And now that I was, I was kind of let down. It just looked like he was sleeping, which I guess he technically was, but the kind of sleep that could easily be woken up by an alarm clock.

A great idea popped into my head as I watched Eric—not in a creepy way, probably just the way Eric watched me when I was sleeping—and I smiled to myself. It'd be the perfect way to get him to cheer up; it'd be good for both of us. When I changed into the clothes I'd be wearing today, I switched my underwear and put the ones I had been wearing in Eric's hand; after a couple tries, got his fingers to close around the flimsy material. I couldn't wait until he woke up—I'd thought I'd be in the bed next to him when that happened, but now I realized I couldn't be. No, if I did that, there was a chance Eric might notice me before he noticed he was holding something that wasn't the sheets. I'd have to stand in the doorway to watch. Definitely.

Wearing the new white lingerie set, my new grey tweed trousers and black shirt, and the black heels, I headed downstairs to the continental breakfast that I read about in the hotel guide. Weary of what happened last night, I made sure to take my purse with my room key and my mace. As soon as I walked in the elevator, I was reminded of Barry the bellhop (because I would only call him that in my head from now on) and figured out what I'd be doing with my day until I waited for Eric to wake up.

Sure enough, Barry was working the door when I walked into the lobby, and after a delicious meal of scrambled eggs and bacon and pancakes, I confidently walked right up to him.

"Hi, can I help you?" he asked, smiling at me. He recognized me as the lady from last night whose mind he couldn't read. And he thought my boobs looked fantastic in this shirt, even better than they did last night. But the first comment was the one I really cared about.

'_No, but I can help you,'_ I thought, as clearly as I knew how.

He gave me a weird look, and then his eyes just about popped out of his head once he realized I thought that. _'Holy shit! Did you just THINK that to me?'_

I smiled. _'Sure did. I'm a telepath, just like you. My name is Sookie Stackhouse.'_

'_I, uh, never met another telepath before,'_ Barry thought nervously. _'Oh shit. You probably just read my mind. God, I'm so sorry about the boob thing.'_

I smiled easily. _'Don't worry about it; just make sure it doesn't happen again. And for the record, you're the first telepath I've ever met. That's why I was so glad to find out last night you were just like me!'_

Barry wasn't quite as happy as I was, but bless his heart, he was doing his best to keep that away from me. Too bad it wasn't enough.

'_I still 'heard' that. I can teach you how to close your mind off properly.' _I thought.

Surprise flitted across his face. _'Is that why I couldn't read your mind last night?'_

"Yes. And I could teach you how to do that. Sorry, I kinda peeked in and took a look, and you could really use some help," I said out loud, very much aware of the fact that people were starting to give us a weird look because we were just standing in front of each other smiling and not saying anything. Hey, we deserved it, us telepath snobs.

"What about the other guy you came in with last night? I couldn't get a read on him either," Barry replied.

"Oh, Eric? He's a vampire, that's why. No. Wait. You were probably talking about the other guy right? The, ah, older one?"

Barry nodded.

"Yeah, he was glamoured. Don't worry about it," I said as nonchalantly as possible.

Barry looked a little weirded out, but thankfully he didn't say anything more about that topic.

He did think something, though. _'Alright, that's enough. The concierge has checked us out at least twice in the past minute, so I need to go back to my job. Nice meeting you, and it was nice of you to offer me Telepathy 101, or whatever, but my shift's almost over and then I'm going to go home and hope I don't run into you when I work the afternoon shift tomorrow. No offense, but vamps already freak me out—especially the two you hung out with last night—and as nice as you seem, I don't want anything to do with you, or your telepathy, or even my telepathy. Got it?_'

And before I could shut my mouth from catching flies, he was stomping past me and heading straight for the 'employees only' room. Damn!

I waited around for him to come out, but he had managed to fling up a flimsy barricade that just let me know he was in there, not what he was thinking. Aggravated, I almost went up to the concierge and asked her to tell Barry to talk to me, but I thought that might scare him off. Anyway, he said he was working tomorrow, didn't he? I could just try again then.

…

I had spent the rest of the day wandering the city, making sure to remember to tell Eric that I walked all alone in a strange city and nothing happened, so there shouldn't be a problem with visiting a measly little church. I did some window-shopping, mostly to find clothes that would be appropriate to wear to the Fellowship of the Sun center—I didn't think my slinky navy dress or the sexy red heels would cut it. After a couple tries, I ended up at the Gap with a yellow flowery button-up knee-length dress that would go nicely with a light blue cardigan I had found. I knew it was horribly out of season, but I figured you couldn't go wrong with flowers when trying to blend in with a religious anti-vampire extremist group. I made sure to keep the receipt in a safe place so the queen could reimburse me later on, something that I felt guilty about for all of two seconds.

By that time it was four o'clock, so I headed back to the hotel and watched some TV until the sun began to go down. Then, I began my stake-out.

I stood in the middle of the doorway, and I had to bite my fist so I wouldn't giggle when Eric first woke up—and then the reason for biting my fist changed, because Eric, eyes still closed, extended a hand (the same one with my panties in it) out, and blindly patted where I should have been, and it took everything inside of me not to go, "Aaaw!"

Once he figured out I wasn't there, he opened his eyes and then instantly sat up straight when all he saw was his own hand fisting a pair of hot pink underwear. He instantly lifted them to his nose and took a big whiff, and that's when I couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing.

His head turned so fast part of his cheek got hit with his hair, and once he saw it was me he relaxed and started laughing too. "Very funny, lover," he said, and then the next thing I knew I was on the bed with a very naked—and very aroused—Eric pinning me down, the underwear left forgotten somewhere between the covers.

"Someone liked my joke," I said archly, lifting my hips up and grinding against the proof.

"It's _nighttime,_" Eric explained, the same way a normal man would say, "it's _morning_," to explain his wood. But he smiled after a moment and added, "Though the panties helped."

"Just the panties?" I said suggestively, the corner of my mouth smirking upwards.

"Those ones, and …" Eric said, sliding a hand up my dress and ripping the underwear I was wearing right off of me, "Oh, these too. Definitely these too." He lifted them up in the air, my poor little ripped panties, and tossed them over his shoulder.

"Hey, now I don't have a pair of underwear to go with the bra!" I mock-whined in mock-protest, smiling as I practically saw the wheels go round in Eric's head.

"So the panties matched the bra, did they now?" he murmured suggestively, untying the string that held my wrap dress together and opening it up so he could see that yes, the panties matched the bra. "Ah, so they do. Or did. Well, I guess I'll just have to make amends, won't I?"

Huh? And then Eric ripped my bra, right down the middle, so that the cups fell over to their respective sides and my breasts were out in the open, the nipples instantly pebbling from a curious combination of the chilliness of the room and the fact that Eric was naked and on top of me.

He helped me shrug off the dress and the bra, and once I was free he started kissing me for the first time that whole night, surprisingly. The last coherent thought I had was how lucky he was to wake up and instantly start kissing me without having to worry about morning—night?—breath … which was_ so_ not the important thing to be obsessing about at the moment.

Once he had kissed me breathless and I had to start kissing his neck to recapture some breath, Eric scooted me over to the very edge of the bed, so that my butt was just about hanging off of it, and then he stepped off the bed, standing right in front of me.

Confused, I breathlessly asked, "What are you doing?" Things were getting hot and heavy, and then all of a sudden he just jumped ship.

His gaze was heated as he took in the sight of me naked, sprawled on top of the covers. "What I'm doing is making up for your ruined lingerie," he said huskily.

Eric kneeled down and wrapped an arm under each thigh for support, so that my feet were over his shoulders and his hands were resting on my hips, kneading the soft flesh. He leaned forward and nuzzled the inside of my thigh before sticking his tongue out and taking a cool, testing lick of me. At his first contact with my sensitive skin, my hips jerked upwards, and his hands pushed them back down again. I grabbed onto his hands in reaction but he was having none of that. Without looking up—and thank goodness he didn't move his head—he brought my hands to my breasts, wordlessly telling me where he thought my hands should be. I tweaked and pinched and played with my nipples, all in time to the rhythm his tongue was taking on as he licked and stimulated me until, to fuel my orgasm that we both could feel was going to be coming soon, he bit down sharply on the inside of my thigh, the difference between the slurps minimal.

When we were both finished, I felt him lick the wound closed, and then he started kissing his way up my body, which was new since usually it was the other way around, the kissing down the body that led to the tonguing. When he reached my neck, he pulled back a little, and we just looked at each other, two different faces with different features and quirks, but the same expression of desire and lust.

Wanting to reciprocate, I pulled him on top of the bed and crawled on top of him, but Eric stopped me. "I know this bed can fit the two of us. I want to test out the Jacuzzi," he said, getting up and carrying me with him, my arms wrapped around his neck and my legs wrapped around his waist, into the bathroom.

It took a couple minutes for the water to heat up and the large tub to fill, but Eric and I were very good at entertaining ourselves during the wait—Eric sat me on the counter top and we kissed the minutes goodbye. Once or twice, when I opened my eyes, I caught Eric looking our reflections in the mirror—specifically, my ass—and I smiled to myself in between kisses, since that seemed like such an Eric thing to do.

Once everything was all set, Eric backed up so I could hop down from the counter, and together we stepped into the tub. Though it took some time for us to get arranged properly, since Eric's legs were so long, we finally ended up with me on Eric's lap facing towards him, and the sultry combination of the hot water and the position and, of course, Eric and his Gracious Plenty, was heavenly. Of course, we managed to get water and suds all over the place, but it was totally worth it. _Totally. _

After we came back down to Earth, the water had grown somewhat lukewarm, so Eric added some more hot water and started washing my back for me, his cool hands providing a pleasurable contrast to the warm water. It was like the world's best back massage, with soap. Once he finished he set down the loofah and murmured into my ear, "I want you to take my blood, Sookie."

"Why?" I asked, looking at him over my shoulder.

He moved so we could meet together for a kiss, and he whispered onto my lips, "Because I like the way you do it."

"And because you want me to have your blood for tomorrow," I smirked.

He stopped nipping my neck, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Well, I suppose on a deep, subconscious level, yes, my desire to protect you is as strong, perhaps even stronger—though certain parts of my body will have to agree to disagree on that issue—than my desire to have sex with you—or, as I suggested, certain acts of a sexual nature. I believe your fellow human Freud, or perhaps once fellow human would be the correct term, would agree with me on that important matter, for I do declare it's a damn shame that no vampire thought to turn him, and that Freud allowed himself to die before that possibility was even an option. I must say, I would be most interested in picking his brain about what he would think about vampires, wouldn't you?"

I pulled away from him so I could turn around and stare dumbfounded at him. We went from Jacuzzi sex to what Freud would be like as a vampire in, like, three seconds flat. _What the hell?_

He fixed a look at me, arching an eyebrow and pointedly saying, "Only sexy talk when we're both naked."

I barked out a laugh, and Eric smiled. "And yes, it has come to my attention that one of the benefits of your taking my blood would be that you would have strengthened abilities. And because I like the way you do it."

"Well, okay then," I replied, and a couple seconds later I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that Eric had brought his wrist to his mouth and broke the skin for me. He held his hand out for me, and I latched on, taking long, deliberate mouthfuls. I felt Eric squirming behind me, rubbing up against me, and then I felt his hand curl around my waist so that now his fingers were dipping down into me. It was … _._ When he bit down on my shoulder while climaxing, the feeling, the one that can only be described using multiple adjectives at the same time, only intensified. It must have felt the same way for Eric; this was the only instance I ever remembered Eric gasping for breath after a sexual act, and here he was, panting almost louder than I was.

"Maybe I was wrong about the sexy talk," he admitted once we finished toweling each other off and were putting our clothes on back in the bedroom, since we needed to be leaving for Stan's soon. As I laughed, I was also in the middle of clasping my new pink bra shut, but I happened to look up at the same time Eric was bending over to put on his boxers, one foot at a time. Any thoughts I had about putting my bra on vanished as soon as I saw his gorgeous ass.

He turned around to reach for his pants, and he saw me staring at him, my hands still behind my back like I was in the middle of doing the chicken dance. "Need any help with that?" Eric asked innocently.

"Um, what?" I said, but still he walked behind me and did what my trembling fingers couldn't do. I finally managed, "It's funny, you know—you putting my bra on, instead of taking it off. I'm not used to it."

He laughed and gathered my hair on one side so he could kiss my shoulder. "Don't get used to it. And I'll take your bra off for you. Later."

…

"Oh, Hugo, yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!" I joked as Hugo opened a navy velvet ring box and showed me the engagement ring I was to wear tomorrow to the Fellowship of the Sun center. He laughed appreciatively and handed me the box, and even Stan looked on in amusement, but Isabel and Eric looked considerably less than pleased.

Well, boo to them. If I was going to infiltrate this possibly deadly, definitely anti-vampire terrorist group, I was going to do it with someone who I felt comfortable enough with to joke around with while he fake-proposed to me. Plus, Hugo and I had been getting along on small talk this evening—we kinda had to, since the vampires were all too busy mapping out tomorrow's plan without asking the opinion of the people who were actually going to go to the church—and I was bored. Sue me.

"Now that that's all set, I believe our work here is done. Sookie and I will take our leave now," Eric said tightly, standing up from his seat in Stan's office and extending a hand out to me so I could do the same.

Isabel nodded from where she was standing next to Stan on the other side of the desk, and Hugo hurriedly backed away from where he was kneeling, in mock-proposal mode, in front of me.

"Very well," Stan said amicably, "Sookie, just to clarify, at two o'clock Hugo will meet you in the lobby of the hotel tomorrow—both of you wearing the appropriate clothing and rings, of course—and then you are to drive to the church. Remember, this is strictly a reconnaissance mission, and you are to read the thoughts of every single person, no matter their age or gender, and no matter how incorrect their thoughts are. Once you find out if they have Farrell, and if so, where he is, then you are to leave. If you can't find anything, then leave at sunset, and return back here."

"Yes, Stan," I said, making no mention that we had already gone through all of those details in the time it took the vampires to finish off two True Bloods apiece. "Good night, then. You too, Isabel. And Hugo, I will see you tomorrow."

Isabel nodded and didn't say anything, but Hugo smiled as he replied, "Looking forward to it already."

Mindful of how good vampire hearing was, I was proud of myself for waiting until Eric and I were both in the car driving back to the hotel before I asked, "What was that all about? You didn't have to be that way, you know."

"What way?" Eric asked, turning to look at me.

"Stuffy. Rude. Distant. Eric, I'm not going to leave you for Hugo, if that's what you're worried about. I mean, in vampire terms, I'm already practically engaged to you. It's completely irrational for you to be jealous of him just because he gave me a ring."

He sighed. "It's not about the ring—although I'd like to point out that he didn't even buy the ring himself, Isabel picked it out for him." I rolled my eyes but Eric pretended not to notice and added, "No, if I'm jealous at all, it's because he's the man who's going with you to the Fellowship of the Sun church tomorrow, and he's the one who provides you with protection and strength and companionship."

I reached over for his hand that was lying on the armrest in the middle, and I squeezed. "Eric, you're still going to be the man who provides me with protection and strength and companionship—and, two things Hugo will never be able to give me even though he's supposed to be my fake fiancé: _love_ and _sex_. Also, because I know this means so much to you, _blood_."

"Yeah. _Yeah_," Eric said, sounding much more upbeat than he had thirty seconds ago. "That's right."

"Of course it's right," I scoffed, smiling at Eric so he'd know I was kidding.

"Oh, _of course_," he said in the same tone, rolling his eyes so exaggeratedly I boldly asked if he ever gave Pam some pointers on how to roll her eyes, causing both of us to laugh. Especially when, after we stopped laughing, he quietly answered, "Yeah."

Afterwards we talked happily about what my day was like and, Eric was quick to point out, what my night was going to be like when we got back in our hotel room. And once we actually got there, we didn't do any talking at all—except for the sexy talk Eric, and later I, liked so much.


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N: Characters aren't mine, but the mistakes are since I freaked out and did some plot points after my beta chiisai-kitty worked her beta magic. Some of the parts about the Fellowship of the Sun was lifted from _Living Dead in Dallas._**

...

Hugo was late to our pre-arranged meeting, walking in to the hotel at 2:17 and offering no excuses or apologies. I mean, he didn't _need _to, but as a Southern girl I was always raised to be on time, if not early, and that the only acceptable reasons for being late included, but were not limited to, accidentally swallowing a snake, being chased by a hungry bull-bear-horse hybrid that could fly, or baking too many pies.

I swallowed any remarks about his tardiness and switched to a friendlier topic: coming up with our names. Oddly enough, the vampires had left that up to us, since they said we mortals would have a better idea of the types of names people had who went to church and didn't like vampires. Go figure.

Eric had a lot of fun helping me come up with some last night, but I hardly thought "Anita Cocke" or "Amanda Kiss" or, his favorite, "Betty Humpsher" were appropriate. And of course I wasn't going to mention _any _of those to Hugo … or how I had howled with laughter when Eric said them all with a serious face.

I finally settled on "Tiffany Wayward," thanks to Hugo's suggestion of creating our names through that porn star name game, where you take the name of your first pet and the name of the street you grew up on—my first pet was a fish I named after my favorite singer at that time, and Wayward was the name of the street my parent's house was on, and I thought it'd be too conspicuous to be named Tiffany Hummingbird … not that Tiffany Wayward was really any better.

According to those rules, Hugo's name was supposed to be "Fido Davis," but he suggested it'd probably be easier if he went as Hugo Davis, and I agreed. It's not like I'd ever met a human named "Fido" before.

Once we got that settled, Hugo complimented me on my dress and sweater ensemble—I wasn't particularly fond of the outfit, and I'd probably donate it to the church's ongoing clothing drive once we got home—but I still thanked him because he was probably just used to women wearing suits all the time. I mean, the two times he'd seen me I'd been wearing my suits, and Isabel seemed like she had a closetful of her preferred tighter, skimpier, less professional suits.

"Thank you, Mr. Davis. And as the future Mrs. Davis, I have to say you're looking pretty nice today too," I returned playfully, glancing at his tucked-in light blue polo t-shirt, khakis, and brown penny loafers that matched his belt. As I said that, I fingered the fake engagement on my ring finger—it was a nice ring and all, one that looked much nicer than any of the ones Arlene had ever worn, but it just felt heavy and wrong.

"Well thank you, Mrs. Davis. I actually had my mistress pick it out for me, but I'm so glad you approve," he said, in a tone that was nowhere near as silly as mine.

"Uh, make sure you don't say anything like that once we're in the church," I muttered, secretly thinking, _'Stupid fun-killer who can't even pick out his own clothes and his vampire has to do it for him. I bought my clothes during the day, motherfucker. Yeah.'_

Needless to say, the rest of the car ride was kinda on the quiet side. I spent most of it either looking out the window or fiddling with my purse.

We both became noticeably tenser once we turned off at the exit for the church; I patted his arm and told him to relax, but quickly read his mind and saw he thought touching me was distasteful—it was rolling off of him like the cheap drugstore cologne he used.

Um, excuse me? _Distasteful_? I knew our car ride was a little bumpy, but I was surprised to see that the thought of touching me invoked a word commonly associated with white trash or wearing white after Halloween.

Much to my relief, I was able to tuck that in the back of my mind and move on once we pulled into the huge parking lot. There actually weren't that many open parking spaces—which was a terrifying thought—so Hugo mostly focused on finding us a spot while I took in the scenery.

For a church, the building was pretty intimidating. The two-story sanctuary was flanked by two long one-story wings—I thought it looked more like a high school than an actual church. The whole building was white-painted brick, and all the windows were tinted. There was a chemically green lawn surrounding the building, along with a surprising amount of flowers for the end of January. There were a handful of men doing some construction work on the lawn—it looked like they were building a sort of platform or elevated stage—and they stopped hammering and sawing to watch our car for a few seconds before going back to work.

Hugo finally parked his silver Toyota Corolla—next to a powder-blue mini-van with a stake hanging around the rearview mirror and three "My kid is an honor student!" bumper sticker on the back of the car—and then we were good to go. I put my arm around Hugo's elbow (and noted, with a great amount of satisfaction, that he didn't _think_ anything about it) and we walked through the parking lot, smiling and saying hello to anyone who looked at us.

"What's my name?" I tested, my crazy-Sookie smile slapped on my face as I asked the question.

"You are Tiffany Wayward and I am Hugo Davis and we met a year ago at a coffee shop. I proposed to you three weeks ago during a romantic dinner date. You're the manager of your own restaurant, and I'm a lawyer," he said, smiling too.

Never mind how Hugo decided that my status as a waitress got updated, but Hugo's day job, a lawyer, stayed the same. Hmmph. _Just keep smiling, just keep smiling, just keep smiling, smiling, smiling. _

My fake smile became real when I got close enough to the church to read the sign on the lawn and I burst out laughing. "THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE SUN CENTER," it read in big, bold print. And underneath it, in smaller, italicized letters, "_Because only Jesus rose from the dead."_

"Oh, wow, they can't even get their Scripture right. Lazarus rose from the dead too. And they call themselves Christians …" I snorted, in a very un-ladylike manner. Never mind that I hadn't been to church in a coon's age.

"Careful, Tiffany, someone might hear you," Hugo admonished. He waved at a soccer mom, who I read didn't hear me, and as soon as she passed us he gruffly added, "You can't think like that. You just can't. They'll be able to tell, I guarantee it."

"Uh, okay," I replied, a little uneasily.

"I'm serious. The Fellowship's quite the powerhouse down here. They've accepted responsibility, publicly, for handing over two vampires to professional drainers, saying at least humanity can benefit from the death of a vampire in some way. They mean business."

"Drainers?" I asked, my mind imagining the Rattrays, but if they were bigger and more muscular and with more tattoos. I knew it had been hard for Eric to not kill the Rattrays, but I knew it'd be impossible for the Dallas vampires to be as generous when dealing with dealers or, their suppliers, the Fellowship.

"It might not have gotten a lot of press in Louisiana, but it was a big story here in Dallas. That's what one of their members said in a newspaper interview. Of course, the deader was on the news the next day, denying the report, but I think that was just smokescreen. The Fellowship kills vampires any way they can, thinks they're unholy and an abomination, and they're capable of anything. Remember that anytime you think you need to open your mouth around here."

"Sure thing, Mr. Sinister Warning," I said sourly, watching Hugo go a little shifty-eyed once we walked through the doors of the church and we saw all the people inside. I instantly was bombarded with bigoted thoughts, ironically noting that accidentally reading the lewd thoughts of Merlotte's bar patrons would be a piece of cake compared to the ones I was getting right now.

I did see a lot of women wearing floral patterns, even though it was January, so I gave myself a mental pat-on-the-back for that.

We walked into what must have been the main lobby of the church, since I could see three different corridors leading from it. There were fresh signs on the walls, signs that read BUDGETING AND FINANCE, ADVERTISING, and most ominously, MEDIA RELATIONS.

A woman in her early thirties, I supposed, came out of a door farther down the hall, and turned to face us. She looked pleasant, even sweet, with lovely skin and blonde hair that looked professionally poofy, not I-need-a-brush poofy. She had a big, sparkly smile and even bigger diamond earrings, and she was wearing a gold brocade suit—one that looked like a suit Isabel might wear—and matching heels.

"Hi y'all! Can I help you?" she asked, looking and sounding professionally friendly.

"Hi there, my name is Hugo Davis and this is my fiancée Tiffany. We're interested in learning more about the Fellowship of the Sun, to see if it's right for us," Hugo said, just as friendly as this woman.

Her eyes lit up and her smile got even bigger. "Hi Hugo," she said, "and hi Tiffany, too. It is so nice to meet you! I'm the wife of Steve Newlin—Sarah Newlin? We're so glad you're here!"

I thought it was really telling she identified herself as Steve's wife first, before telling us her name. But I just smiled sweetly and told her she was as cute as a button.

_Yeah, an EVIL button_.

We exchanged pleasedtomeetyous and lots of fake smiles—on my part, anyway—before Sarah said, "Oh, Lordy, I've been so forgetful, y'all! I bet my husband, Steve, would love to meet you! Why don't y'all just follow me?"

"Golly gee, Steve Newlin himself? It sure would be an honor!" I said, a little too enthusiastically since Hugo shot me a look. Sarah didn't notice; she had already started walking down the hall, so Hugo and I followed behind her.

Most of the doors in the hallway were open, like the Newlins and the Fellowship of the Sun had nothing to hide. Which I thought they did, but so far it wasn't anywhere I could see it. I tried my best to read minds, but no one—not even Sarah—was thinking, "Gee, I wonder if that vampire locked in room 314 of the southwest corridor is hungry." And for the record, Sarah thought my dress was ugly.

We did a lot of walking—the church was bigger than it looked. By this time we had already walked down the main hall, and took a left to go down another clean and polished hall. I finally spotted one closed door at the end of this one, and it ended up being the door that Sarah led us too. Once I got close enough, I saw that it read, "S. NEWLIN, DIRECTOR."

Haha, both of the Newlins could be "S. Newlin, Direcor." I never noticed that until now.

Sarah knocked twice, and a couple seconds later a tall, lanky man opened the door and beamed down at us with a sort of pleasant expectancy. He was about the same size as Hugo—even wearing khakis and a green polo shirt, so hats off to Isabel for her pick—but his hair was a darker shade of brown. He had dark brown eyes and a professional smile as big as Sarah's.

"Hi, honey. Can I help you? Who are your friends?" he asked.

"Baby, this is Hugo Davis and his fiancée Tiffany. They want to know more about the organization, so I thought I'd take them to you! Are you busy right now?" she asked.

His eyes lit up. "I'm never too busy to help the human race, sweetie, you know that. Hugo, Tiffany, my name is Steve Newlin, and I would love to talk to you guys. Come on in!"

He stepped back to let us in, and Sarah followed us in too. The room was very large, done up in wood paneling and warm colors. There was a crucifix behind the desk, and pictures of Jesus all over the place. It looked professionally creepy.

Steve gestured to two seats in front of his desk, and then he took his own seat. Sarah stood awkwardly next to his chair, the smile plastered on her face. Geeze, her cheeks must be as taut as rubber right now.

"Thank you so much for seeing us, Reverend Newlin. I know a man of your stature must be incredibly busy, so I really appreciate it," I said, laying it on thick.

"Please, call me Steve," he said agreeably, "and of course I'd see a nice, young couple interested in joining our church, maybe making us some babies to fill our Sunday school classes with."

_ICK._

"Oh, Steve, I'm so glad you said that! You see, Hugo and I are recently engaged," I said, reaching over and taking Hugo's hand, "and when we went to our old church to speak with the reverend about the ceremony, we, ah, realized that wasn't the right place for us."

"So he was a homosexual," Steve said at once, making a glum face.

Startled, I replied, "Uh, well, that's not for sure, but we found something even worse. He's a, a _sympathizer_," I said, lowering my voice down to a whisper like "sympathizer" was a bad word.

Closing his eyes, Steve shook his head, and Sarah made an audible gasp. I guess to them "sympathizer" really IS a bad word.

"You two made the right choice in leaving. God is applauding your decision in Heaven right now. I mean, how can you be a God-loving person if you also love something God detests?" Steve exclaimed.

"You can't be. And that's why we left," I explained. "We both thought it'd be good for us to be in a place with like-minded people and, well, here we are!"

Sarah chuckled. "And I am so thankful for that! Y'all certainly came to the right place, and I can just tell, you are going to love it here! Tiffany, you look like you have a great batch of recipes in that pretty blond head of yours, and I think you and me could be great at the monthly bake sales!"

But I hardly realized what she was saying, as I was too busy reading Steve's mind as he stared out the window like a high school kid during math class. _'Looks like the boys are almost done with the platform … it looks pretty good, but it will look even better at sunrise tomorrow with the, ah, decorations I'm going to add to it. Decorations. Hah.'_

Sarah and Hugo were looking at me to reply, and when I didn't Hugo said, "Oh, yes, Tiffany's homemade coffee cake is to die for!"

Sarah actually giggled. God help me.

"So Tiffany and I were wondering if there were any upcoming events we could attend, something that could give us an idea of what it's like around here?" Hugo asked.

Steve kind of snapped out of it and turned to look at Hugo. "You're in luck, Hugo! It just so happens that tonight we're hosting our very first lock-in tonight!"

Hugo and I exchanged a glance, and I answered, "A lock-in? No, what's that?"

Sarah was thinking I must lead a sorry life if I'd never been to a lock-in before. She said, "Oh, you definitely have to come to the one tonight! It's a great bonding experience and—"

Steve interrupted her. "And most importantly, you'll see evidence of God's power right before your eyes."

Well, that sounded more ominous than anything I wanted to compare it to.

Sarah's smile wavered just for a tiny second, but she gamely soldiered on, saying, "Yes, and everyone brings sleeping bags and there'll be snacks and games and prayer group. It'll be so much fun, and we'd love to have you here!"

'_Yeah, so you can be part of it. In fact, you can be part of the main attraction,' _Steve thought, and I struggled to keep my face neutral.

Out loud, he said, "Yes, we would. It doesn't start until 6:30, but why don't we give you a private tour of the church, so you can get a feel of how we run things around here?"

Although Steve was definitely up to something, I thought a tour would give us a chance to look around and see where they'd be keeping Farrell. My guess was in some sort of basement or underground room, if they wanted to keep him alive for the time being.

"What do you think about that, honey?" I asked Hugo, squeezing his hand.

"I think it sounds super!" he said, smiling at me.

"Great. Well, let's get it started!" Sarah said, and we all walked out of the room and into the corridor.

An older man, one with a lot of wrinkles and a closely-shorn head of gray hair, walked over to where we were standing, and went right up to Steve. Though he was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a grey shirt, both with the Fellowship of the Sun logo of a yellow sun in front of a blue triangle, he seemed very authoritative.

"Steve, I need to talk to you. It's about the presentation," he said right-off-the-bat, not even saying hello to anyone or introducing himself.

"Tiffany, Hugo, this is Gabe," Steve said—at least he had some manners on him—and Gabe turned to look at us, his gaze lingering on Hugo. He nodded at us without saying anything.

"Steve, the presentation?" he repeated urgently.

"Now's not the best time, Gabe, we're going to give our guests a tour of the building. Say, why don't you come with us?" Steve said agreeably.

Gabe nodded, and then we started walking back to the main lobby, Steve in front of us, Sarah on my side jabbering my ear off about stained glass and carpeting and other domestic nonsense, and Gabe walked behind us. I couldn't help but feeling a little trapped, but Hugo didn't seem to share the same feelings, from what I could tell while holding his hand—he seemed eager, almost. I got the sense that he was trying to deliberately not think about something, but I figured now was not the time to ask about it.

After showing us the kitchen area, the prayer room, and the confession room, Steve led us to a set of closed doors, and I could hear my heartbeat increasing.

"Now this, this is my favorite part of the church. This will really knock your socks off," Steve gushed.

"But Steve, I'm not wearing any socks!" I joked, figuring that was so stupid a FOTS member would say it.

Everyone chuckled—except Gabe, but he didn't seem like the chuckling kind of guy—and Steve replied, "Well then, hope you're ready for this!"

He dramatically opened the doors, and I was blinded for a second, the light streaming through was so bright. I thought they were trying to stun us, but then I realized it was the sunlight coming in through the huge windows behind the altar. This was the real church of this center, with pews and everything, but I could barely see it with all the light.

"Wow," I gasped, and Sarah nodded at me.

"I know, it's so pretty with the light, isn't it?"

"It sure is!" Hugo said. Turning to me, he took both of my hands in his and said, "Honey, this is it! I can't wait to see you walk down this aisle."

'_Too bad that'll never happen,'_ Steve thought, beaming at us. Huh? As I stared at him as inconspicuously as I could, he said, "Well, before you decide, there's just one more place you need to see."

He smiled and brushed past us, walking back out into the corridor and over to another set of wooden doors. Sarah took me by the elbow and led me down the hall, all the while thinking, _'Come on, Steve, don't bring the girl into this! She's so nice and cute, and I bet she's being forced to do it by the vampires. You can keep them somewhere else, just not down there!'_

"Um, no, that's all right, I think we've seen everything we need to see. In fact, we'll just be on our way now. I mean, gosh, we still need to get our sleepover stuff for this lock-down thing, right honey?" I said pointedly, hoping Hugo would get the memo.

"Don't be ridiculous, Tiffany," Hugo said, and I stared at him. Was he _nuts?_ "It's a lock-_in_, not a lock-down."

Okay, so he _was_ nuts. GREAT.

"Yeah, Tiffany, don't be ridiculous. We have some extra sleeping bags downstairs, so we can just grab them while we show you around! You absolutely _have_ to see the basement!" Steve said, not exactly sounding as friendly as before. Now we had stopped walking down the same hall that Steve's office was in, except the set of doors we stopped in front of was closer to the front lobby.

"Um, no, I mean, it's just a basement. I don't need to see it," I said, stalling.

"Yes, you do," Gabe said in his monotone voice, speaking up for the first time and addressing me directly.

"You know, I think I've seen everything I needed to see, and I just remembered I forgot to feed my cat. What time did you say the lock-in was? We can just come back then," I said, shooting daggers at Hugo, who was as relaxed as if he was watching a comedy movie.

"I'm telling you, you have to see this. Now," Steve urged with an unmistakable threat in his tone and words. To make matters worse, Gabe stepped up so he was right behind me, and Sarah let go of me.

There was no way I could think to get out of this without blowing our cover. Strangely, Hugo didn't seem to be picking up on anything fishy, which was incredibly unfortunate. You didn't need to be a telepath to see that something was not right with this situation, but I guess maybe you did.

'_They say she can read my mind, I wonder if she's doing it right now. Maybe that's why she's acting so skittish, and her fake fiancé isn't. Probably. Doesn't matter. I hope I can tie her up to Farrell so she'll roast with him when sunrise comes,' _Steve thought, and before I had time to react he yelled, "NOW!"

Sarah opened the doors, and then the next thing I knew Steve pushed me down the _long_ set of stairs and I rolled down, hitting my head on every other step until I finally ended up on the bottom. Dazed, I tried to get up, but my poor body was having none of that, and I was having trouble breathing, let alone walking or seeing straight. By this time Steve had made it down the stairs and he grabbed me around the waist and started dragging me around the corner. I could make out Gabe carrying a screaming and kicking Hugo down the stairs, and Sarah was at the top of the steps by the door. Her thoughts showed she was sorry it had to happen like this, but she sure had a funny way of showing it.

Steve threw me in some sort of rectangular holding cell with a wire gate protecting it, and I landed hard on the floor, with Hugo following right after me. Smiling, Steve locked the gate door and walked away with Gabe, their footsteps fading after a few seconds.

The cell was filled with cardboard boxes and other storage-y things, but I hardly gave it a second glance when I crawled over to Hugo and asked, "Are you alright?"

He didn't respond at first, thinking, _'It wasn't supposed to be like this … this wasn't supposed to happen … I don't like this at all … why did they do this to me?'_

"Couple bruises, but I'm fine. I'm just really claustrophobic and I _have_ to get out of here, now. You?" he finally replied from where he was sitting on one of the folding chairs he'd taken from the pile stacked up against the wall. He was wheezing heavily and closing his eyes—I guessed he really was claustrophobic.

"My head hurts from when I banged it all those times coming down the stairs, but it's not bad. My wrists hurt too, from landing on them when I fell. And I have a lot of cuts on my arms and head. But at least I was able to hold on to my purse through all that ruckus, huh? I'm just going to call Eric and let him know where we are and then he can come get us once he wakes up."

Smiling at my idea, I dug around in my purse and took out my cell phone, once again thanking Eric for giving it to me so it could save my life for the second time. Right when it rang for the second time, I felt Hugo's arm encircle my wrist, and then he was taking the phone out of my hands and throwing it on the ground so it smashed into a million little pieces.

Once I got over the shock, my jaw dropped and I stared at him in horror. "Are you _insane?_ That was our ticket out of here! Why the hell did you just do that?"

He sputtered, trying to come up with a suitable response. But I found it for him.

"Oh my God. _Oh my God. _You're the leak," I said, after I read his mind and saw that he didn't want the vampires to know because he thought Steve would come down any second now and free him, and then he could leave like he was supposed to. It suddenly all made sense to me—his thoughts, why he didn't seem so nervous, why he was so reluctant to leave. I was a fool for not noticing earlier. Well, okay, I kind of did when I realized he was hiding something from me. So that just made me a double-fool.

He didn't say anything, just stared at the floor and did his stupid breathing exercises. If it wouldn't hurt me so much, I wanted to punch his stupid face in. Maybe I would try, after I got some answers and my body didn't ache so much.

"Why'd you do it, Hugo? You love Isabel, why would you betray her?"

"I loved Isabel, but she doesn't love me. She never did. She refuses to turn me, and I realized what a waste it was, to love someone who doesn't love you back. You of all people should know how that feels like, since you're dating a vampire."

He stared at the floor. "It's addictive, being around beautiful people who might not have been with you if they were human, don't you think? And the sex … I'm sure with Eric's good looks and age you know all about what I'm talking about when I say the sex is _out of this world_. I became addicted to it—Isabel's body became my V, and I became an addict. I started throwing my life away to adjust to hers, sleeping through the day so I could spend all night with her. I started only seeing clients in the afternoon, because I couldn't get up in the morning, and then I quit my practice all together, thinking it'd all work out in the end because Isabel would be so taken with my dedication she'd turn me, and then we could be together forever. But she didn't turn me, and when I realized she never would, that's when I realized I needed to align myself with people who took me seriously, people who would listen to me."

"So you turned to the Fellowship of the Sun? Why not just leave, skip town, you know, forget about her?"

"Because then she'd find a new human to control, someone else to make false promises to, and other vampires would do the same. It's a cycle and it needs to be stopped. Humans need to date humans, and vampires need to die," he gasped. "Does it seem hot in here, or is it just me?"

I could see it now, fitting together like pieces in an ugly jigsaw puzzle: Hugo arguing with Isabel, begging to be turned, and her refusal to even discuss it with him; Hugo calling the Fellowship, offering himself to them and telling them all of the vampires' favorite hotspots in Dallas; Hugo planting a bug in Stan's office and relaying everything to Steve; Hugo looking up my name on the internet and seeing a post about me in a newspaper review for Merlotte's, which was how he knew my full name; Hugo looking shocked when I walked past him that first night, not understanding how the man Steve hired to kidnap me was in the nest; Hugo calling Steve the next day, saying he'd be going with me into the church, and his name would be Hugo. Steve made him feel like a hero, and Hugo liked it. Isabel never complimented him, not even in bed, no matter what he tried or what he did for her fantasies. And let me tell you, he did _a lot_ for her fantasies.

The images flashed before my eyes like it flashed in Hugo's brain, and I felt even sicker because of it.

"You think you're a hero, Hugo? Is that right? Tell me, if you're such a hero like Steve thinks you are, why are you locked in here with me, the fangbanger, the sympathizer, the betrayer of the human race? Huh? You feel like a hero now?" I hissed, sticking a finger in his face.

"I'll always be a hero compared to you," he spat out.

Mustering up all my courage and strength, I wound up, and punched him in the face, and he fell on the floor, knocked unconscious. Guess that vampire blood really helped. My right hand felt like it was on fire, the stinging pain radiating from it somehow managing to take precedence over the pain coming from all over my body. I couldn't believe I had this many injuries and was in this much pain even with Eric's blood. All I knew was that if it felt this bad and I looked this bad with the blood, I might have been dead without it. And even with it, I still might be dead if I didn't find a way out of here.

Oh, my God. I suddenly realized Eric and I had never discussed the ramifications of what might happen if I died. Not just today, but ever. Like, _ever _ever. Would he turn me? Would he turn me when I wanted him to, if I wanted him to? Could I make it be like the equivalent if I was lying in a hospital bed alive only because of machines, and he would be the person who'd decide to pull the plug or not? That seemed the most practical to me, but perhaps that was because I was held captive awaiting my death.

That wasn't going to happen. I set my mind open, and I couldn't feel any vampire minds—or any human thoughts, either. Maybe we were too far removed? But I knew in my gut that Farrell was here, somewhere.

I also knew Eric would be able to sense my fear, and I knew even though I wasn't able to leave a message on his phone the call still went through and he'd see that I called, but I also knew it'd be a good while before he woke up and was able to do anything about it. Would Isabel even be able to sense anything from Hugo, since he had remained calm and collected until he started hyperventilating about his claustrophobia?

I slumped down against the wall across from Hugo's motionless body. I had no idea how much time had passed before I got the idea to try reaching out to Barry the bellhop. He said he was working today … maybe he was in the hotel and could leave a message for Eric?

I was in new mental territory. I gathered up what energy I had and tried to roll it into a ball, in my mind. For a second, I felt absolutely ridiculous, but hey, I had nothing to lose. Except my life.

I thought to Barry. It's hard to peg down exactly how I did it, but I projected. Knowing his name helped, and knowing his location helped.

'_BARRY! BARRY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?'_ I thought.

'_What do you want?'_ he thought back after a couple seconds. He sounded nervous and completely freaked out, since this had never happened before.

'_Barry, I need your help. I'm in big trouble.'_

'_I'm at work.'_

'_I know. I need you to go get my vampire—Eric Northman, room 1216—when he wakes up. Can you do that for me?'_

'_What for?'_

'_Tell him I'm at the Fellowship of the Sun center, in the basement. I'm hurt real bad. Can you remember that?'_

'_Sure.'_

'_Tell Eric he needs to get here as soon as possible. They're planning on burning Farrell at dawn, and they want to tie me up with him so I burn too. You need to do this the minute the sun sets, Barry. My life depends on it.'_

That really scared him, and he shut off communication between us. UGGGH. He chose the absolute _worst_ time to be good at this telepathy thing. All I could do was sit and hope he'd deliver the message to Eric. Eric would know what to do.

I searched Hugo's pockets, but he wasn't carrying a cell phone—just his car keys and his wallet. Well, there goes that. I sat myself in a corner and hugged my knees, hoping that Eric would come and save me.

I don't know how long I sat there like that, but it felt like forever. It gave me a lot of thinking to do, though.

Hugo did have a point. Like him, I had kind of rearranged my life for Eric, missing work and taking later shifts so I could spend more time with him. But on the other hand, I knew Eric had shifted his schedule to allow me into his life too. He slept over at my house—heck, sometimes he would spend more time there then at Fangtasia. And Eric loved me, Eric complimented me, Eric made me laugh and think and feel safe whenever I was with him. Our relationship was different than Hugo's with Isabel—because I wasn't anything like Hugo, and Eric wasn't anything like Isabel. And sure, we had never really talked about turning me—mostly because we had only _just_ gotten together. But I wasn't too sure if I even wanted to be a vampire, now or at any time in the future. But I did know I wanted to be with Eric. I always had been, and I had a suspicion that I always would.

But would we have been together, under different circumstances? Like if we met at a different time at a different place for a different reason, or if Eric was human and I was human, or I was vampire and Eric was human. Eric could have any girl he wanted—something he'd been accustomed to for over a thousand years. Of course there was a reason why he was so good in bed and anywhere else he wanted to have sex. I'm sure Isabel was the same way, with her hot little suits and her dominatrix personality. But the difference was Eric didn't treat me like how Isabel treated Hugo, like I should be thanking him for noticing me. He never had … not even the first time he met me at Fangtasia after he got his memories.

Even after all that thinking, Hugo was still unconscious on the ground. I still didn't feel bad about that. Sorry.

Or, I didn't, until I heard footsteps and then Gabe was right in front of me, his big meaty hands holding onto the wire. If Hugo was up, we could have taken him, I thought. Gabe was a big guy and Hugo and I both were injured, but two against one definitely would have made an impact.

Um. That's what I thought before I noticed the gun tucked into his sweatpants.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asked, grinning at me. It was an ugly smile on an ugly face, which made it even more sinister and creepy and not at all comforting like a smile should be. "Looks like you're all alone."

"Oh, I'm not alone. Hugo's just, ah, sleeping. He'll wake up any minute now, you'll see," I said, backing up so I was as far away as possible from him. "And I know Farrell's down here. He'll come here as soon as he's up and finds out Stan sent me."

"See, that's where you're wrong, bitch. Hugo's knocked out, and Farrell's not going to help you. You are nothing to him, just like you are nothing to your vamper and you are nothing to the human race. But if it makes you feel better, you do mean something to me, at least for the time being."

"What's that?" I asked distractedly, my eyes widening once I saw Gabe unlock the wire door and step into the cell. I blindly reached for one of the folding chairs and opened it up, like I was a lion tamer holding a chair in front of a lion.

He chuckled, and I could see in his mind he thought I was a stupid bitch whose only good quality was what was between my legs. And he'd get to that, whether I wanted it or not—though I probably would, since I was such a whore. If I opened my legs for a dead guy, of course I'd open my legs for _him_.

I threw up my shields and thrust the chair in front of me. Gabe just seized the chair legs and tried to force them to the ground but I held on to that chair like it was a life raft. Changing tactics, I threw the chair at Gabe, hitting him squarely in the chest, and then charged past him out the door. I had just about made it when he grabbed my ankle and forced me down so I landed on my stomach, all the wind knocked out of me.

Gasping for breath, I tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he held on tightly, so tightly and so painfully I was sure he twisted my ankle and then I'd really have no way to even try to exit.

Now that I was touching him—unwillingly—I got an even better read on his mind, unfortunately. He really wanted me unconscious now because that's how he liked it.

There aren't enough words in a dictionary to describe how horrifying it is to read someone's mind and see them knock you out and then rape you … seconds before they do it in real life.

"Like your women unconscious, practically dead?" I hissed, trying not to let the fear and pain seep into my voice. "Doesn't that make you like a vampire?"

"Only if I make you lose blood, which I definitely fucking count on doing now," he gruffly replied, savagely pulling me back towards him and trying to flip me over so I was on my back. I fought, clawing and kicking blindly, but he was stronger than me, so much stronger than me even with the vampire blood in me.

He backhanded me and my cheekbone hit the floor, my body going limp as I lost my bearing. He turned me over and scrambled on top of me, sitting on my knees so I couldn't squirm away. He started ripping my dress down the middle, not caring that buttons were popping off left and right. His hands were grabbing my thighs so hard it was like he was trying to strangle them. Now that my dress was ripped halfway open he was sliding down his sweatpants, and I took the moment to start pushing away from him, screaming and crying out for all I was worth. Farrell _had _to be up now, right? It had been so long, surely it was night time. And what about Hugo? Now I was really regretting knocking him out. Weren't my screams and cries of help loud enough to wake him up?

It was enough for Gabe—he was getting turned on by the damsel-in-distress things I was doing. "That's it, baby, scream for me, scream for me like you scream for your fucking vamper."

He grabbed my arms bringing me closer to him, and now his sweaty hands were trying to take my underwear off. Instead of trying to push him away, I settled for trying to push his hands away from me, but all that did was anger him. He slapped me across the face and I gasped, and then he punched me so hard I was seeing stars. I dimly registered him balling his big hand in a fist again and winding up to hit me as hard as he could. I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable pain and the possibility that he'd hit me hard enough to knock me out and then it'd be all over …

But it never came. After a few seconds I scrunched up my face and opened an eye, and then opened the other once I saw Gabe's neck twisted at an unnatural angle—he was dead. There was a vampire behind him, his hands still around Gabe's neck, and I stared at this boyish looking man worshipfully.

"Farrell?" I gasped, sitting up straight and staring at my shirtless savior, whose pale hair, paler skin, and white linen trousers that made the tribal tattoos on his chest look even darker.

Looking down at me he shook his head, almost reluctantly. "No. My name is Godfrey."

_What the hell? _

...

**A/N: I've decided to write the EPOV for this story. Due to the brilliant suggestion of msbennett88, it'll be called DEAD TO YOUR WORLD. So yeah. But that won't be out for a while now.**


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty for looking this over. Kudos to CH for her characters.**

...

"_Godfrey_?" I asked, stunned. _Who the hell was Godfrey?_

He nodded so calmly I wondered if he was a hallucination. It was a plausible theory, especially with the way I had been thrown down a flight of stairs before being slapped and smacked and punched an hour or two later.

"There's another one of you? Is Farrell even here?" I sputtered, trying to get up while simultaneously pulling my dress down. My knees buckled under the weight like I was a newborn calf, and I grabbed onto the wire fence, using that to help me up.

"Yes, he's here. How did you know that?"

"Stan sent me to find Farrell. I came here all the way from Louisiana to find the vampire captured by the Fellowship of the Sun. I didn't know there were two of them!" I set to work buttoning my dress, but Godfrey didn't even sneak a peek.

"You, a human, traveled across area lines to help a vampire you've never seen? Why?" Godfrey asked curiously, crossing his arms and looking like a white marble statue. His white linen pants and bare feet only enhanced the image.

"I'm a telepath," I explained.

Whatever answer he was expecting, it wasn't that. He tilted his head to the side to appraise me and repeated, "A telepath?" I could see now I had gone up a notch, in his eyes—a very small notch, mind you, but a notch all the same. He didn't just rescue a weak, defenseless human, he rescued a weak, defenseless human _telepath. _"Can you read my mind?"

I shook my head. "No. I can't read any vampire's minds."

"Hmm. That would have been interesting. But terrible for you, I suppose. Still, a _telepath_. I've never met one, in all my years. I'm surprised there are things even I haven't seen, yet here you are." He regarded me thoughtfully, like I was something worth purchasing.

"Yeah. I'm a telepath. I'm Eric Northman's telepath. Do you know him?"

He looked surprised. "Northman? Everyone knows Northman. I didn't know he had a telepath, though."

"Not a lot of people do—but the queen of Louisiana knows, and she wants to make me her pet, even though I'm bonded to Eric. This was meant to be a test for me—if I could find Farrell, it'd show I would be able to work for her without actually living with her, and I could stay with Eric, who came with me. He should be coming any minute now—I sent him several messages."

"All this fuss, for a human," Godfrey mused, staring at me. After a moment his gaze switched over to Hugo. "What of this human? Is he a telepath too?"

I shook my head. "No, he's a traitor. He's Isabel's human, but he betrayed us, he set this all up. When we came in posing as a married couple to do some recon and see if the Fellowship had taken Farrell, Steve and Sarah already knew who we were, and they threw us down here. Listen, it doesn't matter, we gotta get out of here! Where's Farrell?"

"Oh, he's down here," Godfrey answered nonchalantly. "I wake up sooner than he does, since I'm more than three times his age."

I did the math in my head. Farrell, I knew, was three hundred years old. This Godfrey must be at least nine hundred years old. And Eric was older than both of them, so surely he was already up, had already felt my fear, had already seen my missed call, and had already been contacted by Barry. He was probably on his way now.

"Great. You can carry him, and we'll just have to sneak out of here, and then Eric will come and he can take us back to Stan's! Come on!"

Paying no mind to Hugo, I slowly and carefully took a couple steps towards the door, wincing in pain each time I put weight on my right foot. I _knew_ Gabe had done something to it when he grabbed my ankle.

I didn't hear footsteps and I turned around, only to see Godfrey hadn't moved an inch.

"I'm not leaving," he said.

"Why not? They're going to burn you at sunrise, in front of the whole congregation!" I said, throwing my hands in the air like a bad actress.

He nodded. "I know. That's why I'm down here."

"_What?"_ I screeched, wondering how I was even able to be surprised after all the twists and turns this night had taken. "Are you telling me you _want_ to meet the sun?"

"Yes. I want to die." For the first time this entire conversation, he smiled.

"Why?"

"I'm old. Not as old as your Northman, but pretty close. I have seen a lot of evil, and done much more evil during my long life—one I didn't even ask for. I've tried to keep this darkness, this sickness, at bay, but I'm too tired to fight it. It's not worth it for me. I need to atone for my sin, and I'm going to do that by giving myself up to the sun. There's a special ceremony, and they've built a platform for me to stand on. I even have a pair of white dress robes to wear. "

"Well, okay, that's your choice," I said, wondering why he was making such a big deal out of his death. If he really wanted to die, wouldn't he have just walked out into the sun when he first started feeling suicidal?

Pushing my thoughts away, I asked, "Does Farrell want to die too? Because I certainly don't."

"No, Farrell doesn't want to die."

"Why is he here?" I asked, not understanding.

"He's here because he's committed sins worse than I have. I brought him here with me, to show my loyalty to the Newlins. Steve wants to see if you would burn if he tied you to Farrell."

"Yeah, I know. Why did you need to show loyalty to _humans_?" I asked desperately, hoping that would trigger the vampire inside of him. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

He did look a little taken aback, but not enough to change his mind. "Under normal circumstances, perhaps."

"Fine. Whatever. We don't have time for this—or I don't, anyway. Where's Farrell? I'll just take him and then we'll be outta this place and you can go meet the sun and everyone will get what they want."

I turned and took a step away, and then saw that Godfrey had moved in front of me. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave."

"Why not?"

"If you leave, you'll tell the vampires, and they'll attack. I will be prevented from meeting the sun. You'll have to stay here."

"You can't make that choice for me. You shouldn't have made it for Farrell either. Who do you think you are—God?" I asked, spitting mad.

"Do you believe in God?" he asked solemnly.

"Yes, yes I do," I said, "but what does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything," Godfrey replied vaguely. "How will your God punish me?"

"God doesn't punish. He forgives."

"Even people—vampires—who have deliberately hurt children, even killed them?" he asked earnestly.

I had to work hard not to let the disgust I was feeling overpower my face as I answered, "Yes. God forgives everyone."

All of a sudden I was hit with a surge of strength and love and care and I knew Eric was nearby, maybe even in the building. I grinned, a big fat smile lighting up my face, and Godfrey stared at me, no doubt wondering why I looked so happy when we were supposed to be debating God's range of forgiveness.

I felt Eric coming closer, and my smile just grew even bigger than I thought possible. And then, suddenly, he whizzed around the corner and stopped, taking in the scene in front of us. Even though I was given the heads-up that he was approaching, I was still stupefied when I saw him.

He had cut off his hair, all of it, so now it was a closely-shorn buzz cut. He was wearing a short-sleeve plaid red and yellow collared shirt, pleated khakis that were belted with a green canvas belt, and—_thank God_—his regular shit-kicking black boots. Once I was able to get over my shock, I finally understood this was Eric pretending to be a human, one who was a member of the Fellowship of the Sun. God bless him, he had even managed to apply bronzer on his face, neck, and arms, even though, upon close inspection, it looked kinda splotchy and uneven.

Of course he still looked gorgeous. And of course I had much more important, potentially life-saving things to think about right now, but I still had time to appreciate his handsomeness. Thinking you're going to die a couple times a night kinda makes you appreciate the little things. At least, that was my excuse.

"Godfrey?" he asked, stupefied. But he didn't even give Godfrey the chance to reply, because then he was saying, "Sookie," and coming over to my side. I threw my arms around him in the world's most genuine hug, and I felt him hug tightly back, his hands in my hair. I was so glad to see him I didn't even tell him how much it hurt to be touched, thanks to all the times I'd been knocked around this evening

I had seen how Eric's eyes had first scanned my body fearfully, and when he whisper-asked, "What has happened to you?" all I could do was plead, "Later. When it's just you and me."

He drew back and, hands still behind my head, took one long, sweeping glance over me before turning to Godfrey. I knew it would be hard for him not to ask all the questions he clearly wanted to ask me at this very moment, but I was glad when the next thing to come out of his mouth was, "What are you doing here, Godfrey? Why weren't you at Stan's nest these past couple of days?"

"I was here," he said simply.

"Did they take you too?" Eric asked. "How is this possible?"

"Eric, Godfrey offered himself up to the Fellowship, and he took Farrell with him. He _wants_ to meet the sun," I said.

"Godfrey, is this true?" Eric gaped. Godfrey nodded. After a few seconds of shocked silence, Eric asked, "Is the same true for Farrell?"

All of a sudden Eric's head snapped to somewhere down the hall. Without even looking at Godfrey, he took my hand and followed the sound until we stopped in front of an open door. There was a vampire inside chained to the wall—he looked like, in any other circumstance, he would be a strong vampire, since he was tall and muscular, especially since he wasn't wearing a shirt, only a pair of bloody black jeans. He just looked exhausted as hell. He was barely able to turn his head to look at us, but when he did I saw that he had a full black beard and a hooked nose. He was gagged with a piece of fabric—maybe it had silver stitched in it or something?

"Farrell," Eric murmured, eyes wide open, and he bent down and picked up a bloody hand towel, and then a bloody crow bar, and broke the handcuff on the right hand, and then the left, and then the ones around his ankles. Again using the towel, he then removed the gag from the poor vampire's mouth. Farrell was finally free.

Rubbing his wrists, which were slowly beginning to heal themselves, he looked gratefully at Eric and said, "Thank you, Northman." He looked past us, into the doorway, and I turned around to see Godfrey standing there, casually watching us.

"_You,_" Farrell accused, pointing his finger at Godfrey. "You did this to me. _Traitor_." He shook his head, his shoulder-length inky black hair swishing with the movement. He made a move to charge at Godfrey, which even I knew was stupid because of his age and current physical condition, but Eric stopped him, putting a hand on each of his shoulders.

"Farrell, there's no time for this. You'll have to settle your score later," Eric said.

"You won't be able to; I'm not leaving," Godfrey said. "I mean it. I want to die here."

"Oh, that can be arranged," Farrell threatened.

We were all interrupted by an audible groan, and I stiffened thinking one of the Newlin's had come down. Completely ignoring the other vampires, I limped out of the room, faintly hearing Farrell ask Eric if I was there so he could drink my blood; I stood still, knowing Eric's response would _definitely_ be worth eavesdropping on, but he either didn't answer or spoke really quietly, 'cause I heard nada. I went back to my former cage, only to see Hugo sitting upright, his hand pressed to his forehead. His eyes almost bugged out when he saw Gabe's lifeless body, only to look up and see me standing in the doorway—and then, a second later, Eric standing next to me.

"What …? How …?" Hugo gasped.

"Eric, Hugo's the leak. The Newlins knew who we were the minute we walked in the church. He set me up," I explained, kind of feeling like a tattle-tale, but a tattle-tale doing the right thing.

I didn't say anything about Gabe's corpse, and Eric didn't ask, even though I definitely saw him staring at it. I don't think it escaped either of us that you could clearly see Gabe's dead dick poking out of his sweats.

Hugo looked terrified, and he had every right to be. Now Eric looked ready to kill, though I didn't know if that was because of what he saw about Gabe or heard about Hugo, and I wasn't so sure I'd even want to consider telling him not to kill Hugo. If that made me a bad person, then so be it.

Eric took two steps over and, without saying anything or giving the slightest hint of what he was about to do, punched Hugo right in the face. Once again, he slumped over—a black eye already blooming—and Eric picked him up and threw him over his shoulder like he was Santa's toy bag.

"Is he dead?" I asked once Eric walked back over to me.

"He'll wish he was, once I take him back with us to the nest," he muttered, "accidentally" hitting Hugo's head on the metal wire door as he brushed past me.

Eric led me back to the room where Farrell had been locked up in, and we saw Farrell futilely trying to swing at Godfrey, who had a hand on Farrell's forehead to prevent Farrell from making any contact. It kind of looked like what Jason used to do to me when we were kids, only much more deadly.

"_I__mbeciles!_" Eric hissed, and both vampires stopped what they were doing to stare at him, their fangs disappearing almost in sync.

Once he saw he had their full attention—although that might have also been because he had a bloody, unconscious human slung over his shoulder—Eric continued, "Godfrey, if you want to give yourself up to the sun, that's your business. I imagine if I took you back you'd be killed anyway, but not in a process as painful as being burned alive by the sun. At least, that's what I would do to you, if I were your Sherriff. I'm still going to report you to Stan, and I can't guarantee that they won't send a retrieval team for you—especially once Farrell tells them what you did to him. I can't say I care whether you die at the hands of humans or vampires. But I'm not going to force you to come back to the nest with me, even though we both know I could. I just don't have the time or means to do that right now. Getting Sookie out of here safely is my number one priority right now."

Godfrey shrugged, looking even more like a teenage boy. Farrell looked a little more outraged, as I expected him to.

Holding up a hand, Eric said, "Farrell, we need to leave. It's well past sunset, and I imagine there will be humans down here any moment now to check on their prisoners. You're not strong enough to fight them, Godfrey won't fight them, and I can't fight them all on my own, not when they have silver and stakes like we all know they have. Now is not the time for you to try and seek revenge on Godfrey—you will need to be alive in order to do that."

Farrell nodded grimly. "Fine. But I need blood right now, especially if I'm going to have to be walking next to her," he said, jerking his head in my direction.

"Around the corner there's a dead man lying in the holding cell, recently killed by Godfrey. His body is still at the normal temperature. Go," Eric said. Farrell didn't need to be told twice.

"Eric, how are we getting out of here?" I asked.

For the first time tonight, Eric looked unsure. "I had planned on going out the same way I had come in, which was straight through the entrance pretending to be a human, but now I see that's not possible, for obvious reasons, without attracting too much attention to ourselves."

Shit. He was right. Farrell and I looked gruesome, and Eric couldn't exactly drag Hugo's unconscious body through the front doors without making a scene. I tried to think of any other exits I had seen, but came up blank. Eric and Farrell seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

"Did you come with backup?" I tried again.

Eric shook his head. "I came alone. Stan said Barry could be a trap and the missed cell phone call probably meant nothing. Isabel said she felt nothing from Hugo all day—just a slight panic attack in the late afternoon, but that was it. Neither of them thought it was enough to infiltrate the church, so I said I'd do it myself. And I did."

Everyone was quiet after that.

"I can help," Godfrey offered slowly. We all looked at him, since it was totally unexpected. "But I'm only doing it for the telepath."

_What the hell?_ Eric shot me a "WTF" look, but I ignored it. "What is it?" I asked, turning to face Godfrey.

"Most of the staff and congregation will be in the church or the main lobby, preparing for the lock-in. The most senior members will be in Steve's office. I will go in there and distract them, and as I do that there's an exit at the end of the corridor, away from the lobby," he explained.

"Don't think this will redeem you," Farrell shouted from down the hall. "It's not doing a thing for me."

"I'm not seeking redemption from you," Godfrey said stoically, and I could tell I was the only one who really understood why he was doing this. It was clear Eric didn't care why Godfrey was doing this, as long as he was doing it.

"Lead the way," Eric said, gesturing to the area where the stairs were as grandly as he could while carrying an unconscious man.

After glancing at me, Godric brushed past us and walked up the stairs, Farrell joining us once we passed by the cell where he was feeding on Gabe. Eric asked if he was good, to which Farrell replied, "Hardly. I've lost a lot of blood. But I think I'll be able to make it for the time being."

Godfrey opened the door and stuck his head out, then opened them all the way and walked into the corridor. The coast was clear, apparently.

I could see people walking in the lobby, but none of them stopped to look at us. Godfrey walked away from the ruckus, to where I remembered Steve's office being, and then gestured down the hall to where we were to exit.

Eric and Farrell started walking there almost as soon as Godfrey pointed the way, but I couldn't, not yet. I stood in front of Godfrey, who was looking down at me with the most curious expression on his face—earlier I had been pushing so hard to get out of the church, and now that I had the opportunity to leave I wasn't taking it.

"You must go," he said finally, his hand on the doorknob to Steve's office.

"I know, I know. But before I can, I wanted to say goodbye, and thank you. Thank you for saving me from Gabe, and thank you for helping me escape. You didn't have to do either of those, but I really appreciate that you did," I said, starting to tear up for the first time tonight, surprisingly.

Godfrey brought his hand under my chin and lifted my head up. "A human—a human telepath—crying for me, _thanking me,_ after everything I have done," he marveled, wiping his thumb on my cheekbone and gathering a (tasty?) mixture of my blood and tears to lick. He smiled faintly, his tongue darting out of his lips and gathering any leftover Sookie juice. "You have given me more than you will ever know, Sookie Stackhouse. Take comfort in that."

"SOOKIE!" Eric said, walking back over to where we were standing and taking me by the arm. Godfrey let go of me, and next thing I knew Eric was dragging me over to the exit, which Farrell had already escaped from. Godfrey watched me for a little before nodding and stepping into Steve Newlin's office.

"What the hell was that all about?" Farrell questioned once we were all outside.

"You wouldn't understand," I said.

"We don't have time to," Eric muttered. "Follow me." He creeped around the side of the building towards the parking lot, and Farrell did too, but I could only hobble at best. Eric noticed and said to Farrell, "Farrell, I give you permission to pick Sookie up and carry her to the car. It'll be faster that way."

I was surprised at that, but I guessed Eric's survivalist side had trumped his possessive one. Farrell looked at me and shrugged, and then all of a sudden I was thrown over his back exactly like Hugo was thrown over Eric's. I didn't think this was the exact way Eric had meant for him to carry me, since I was wearing a dress, but I didn't even care at this point. It did hurt like a motherfucker, though.

"It's too risky," Farrell said. I was about to ask what he was talking about, but then he added, "There are too many humans in the parking lot, and I can see that some of them are carrying wooden stakes. They could see us."

"This is the only chance we have," Eric said. "If we wait, someone might realize the prisoners escaped."

A couple seconds later, the two vampires started doing their vampire running, and I had to close my eyes.

"Don't you think this will look more suspicious, two vampires with bodies flung over their shoulders?" I hissed, trying to keep my face away from Farrell's ass.

Farrell laughed for the first time all night.

"It doesn't matter, we're at the car," Eric replied. Farrell set me down, keeping his hands away from my ass, and he got in the passenger seat. I took the backseat with Hugo drooping on my shoulder, and then Eric was starting the car up and driving out of the parking lot. Looking at the window, I could see some people trying to chase our car—I guess they had seen Eric and Farrell. But then we were leaving the center and pulling onto the main road and there weren't any cars following us, and I didn't care anymore. For once I was grateful for Eric and his iron foot, and I made a note never to nag him about his driving ever again. Not that I nagged too much before.

"Hey, isn't that Godfrey?" I asked groggily, not sure if I had hallucinated that little white blur that ran into the woods.

"GODFREY!" Farrell roared, his face so close to the window it would have been all foggy by now, if he had any breath.

"We can't do anything," Eric said rationally. "He's already too far ahead of us."

Farrell slumped in his seat but didn't say anything.

Once Eric was sure we weren't being followed, he took out his cell phone and called Stan and explained everything. After that he even gave the phone to Farrell so he could answer some questions, and that's how we found out how this whole mess started.

When Farrell went to the bathroom with the man at The Vampire State Building—I still rolled my eyes upon hearing the name—he asked him to go out in the alleyway out back, so they'd have more privacy. Obviously, Farrell agreed, and as soon as he bit into his neck someone behind him threw a silver net on him, and Farrell ended up in the back of a van. The next thing he knew, he was chained up against a wall as Steve Newlin praised Godfrey for finding him a double abomination, a gay vampire. Then he said they discussed a special ceremony at dawn where Godfrey and Farrell would meet the sun. Newlin left and Godfrey stayed in the room, admonishing Farrell for his sinful ways—I guess Farrell was the stereotypical Dallas vamp who didn't care about acting like the friendly neighborhood vampire Nan Flanagan swore up and down all vampires were—and saying they would both get what had been coming to them for years. The rest of his days there were spent in a silver and hunger-induced daze, even though Godfrey made sure Farrell got a bottle of True Blood per night.

I suddenly had the image of Steve Newlin walking into a gas station and buying a six-pack of True Blood, and I wished a paparazzo had been there to snap a picture of it.

Farrell did note that on his second or third night there, he overheard Steve and Gabe discussing a telepath that was supposed to be coming—Steve thought it'd be cool if they chained her up with a vampire so everyone could watch her burn as the vampire met the sun. Eric looked back at me, horror clearly splashed across his face, when we both heard Farrell say that. Farrell noticed, and swiveled his head around and seriously told me, "Even if you weren't Northman's and you weren't a telepath, I wouldn't wish that on you."

"Thanks," I said dryly, and then Farrell went back to talking to Stan, asking if he could drink from Hugo so he'd be healed enough to join in the scouting team that was already being prepared to abduct Godfrey. After a couple moments of silence, even I could hear Isabel shout, "I don't care. He betrayed me. Do with him as you wish, but keep him alive."

Farrell instantly threw the cell phone over at Eric, who caught it easily in one hand even though he was in the middle of making a right turn at that point, and climbed over the armrest in the middle. Before I even had time to move away, Farrell was on top of Hugo, biting his neck and rubbing himself against Hugo's unconscious body in such a way that I knew he really was a gay vampire.

I didn't even ask before I scrambled over their bodies and got in the front seat—Farrell didn't mind, since now he could lie out in the back seat and do all sorts of things with Hugo that I didn't even want to know about. It made me glad Hugo was such a backstabbing traitor, or else I would feel even more guilty.

I still felt seriously disturbed, though. I turned up the radio as far as the Range Rover allowed me to, and even though it was some Britney Spears song blasting through the speakers Eric said nothing, just reached for my hand and held on to me as I looked straight ahead, not even trusting myself with looking out the window for fear I'd somehow see a reflection that showed me what was going on back there—not that I didn't already have an idea.

"Why didn't you leave a message when you tried to call me?" Eric asked, speaking in a louder voice than he normally did to try and cover up Farrell's noises.

"Hugo broke my phone," I said in a monotone voice.

"I suppose I don't need to ask why, during any of the many times I called you back, it just went straight to voicemail," Eric joked.

I grunted in response. Eric got the hint and didn't say anything else.

Finally the slurping sounds stopped, but I didn't turn around for the rest of the car ride.

Eric's eyes darted to the rearview mirror as he simply asked, "He's still alive, right?"

I knew I should be horrified or disgusted or at least outraged, but I was numbed to it all.

Farrell dreamily replied, "Yes."

No one spoke another word for the rest of the car ride, until Eric pulled up in front of Stan's house, where Isabel—wearing some black dominatrix outfit that looked like something Pam would wear to Fangtasia—and Stan—wearing khakis and a red sweater—were standing at the end of the driveway, the exact definition of the odd couple. Once Eric screeched to a halt—he even threw his hand out in front of my chest, like Gran used to do if she had to use her brakes too fast—Stan reached out and opened the back door, where Farrell hopped out carrying an unconscious Hugo. I saw a huge flash of pain in Isabel's eyes before it disappeared and she was all business, scooping Hugo and carrying him into the house with Farrell hot on her heels.

Stan closed the door and walked over to my window, which Eric had lowered. "Sookie, it is unfortunate what has happened to you, but the troubles you went through to bring me back my nest brother will not be forgotten or lessened when I speak to the queen," he said solemnly.

"Thank you," I demurely murmured.

He then looked past me, to Eric. "We're about to leave for the Fellowship. Would you like to come, Eric?"

"No, but thank you. Sookie needs me more than you do," Eric said seriously, and I was reminded of how Eric had placed my need for him over Stan's need for him earlier this evening. He probably wanted that to happen.

I think Stan arrived at that conclusion too. He paused before asking, "Shall I call you with an update later tonight?"

"That sounds reasonable," Eric replied.

"Very well." And with that, Stan zoomed off into the house.

"I need you to tell me everything that happened at the Fellowship," Eric said as soon as the door was shut.

"Can that wait? I'm not ready to talk about everything just yet," I pleaded, Gabe's scary face popping into my head before I pushed it away.

"I understand," he replied softly. "But you should take some of my blood now. If these are all the injuries you got with my blood fresh inside you, I don't even want to think about what you'd look like, or be feeling, right now if I hadn't given you blood."

I thought about how I was pushed down a flight of stairs, dragged down a hallway, sat on by a 250 pound man, slapped multiple times across the face, did an unwilling belly-flop on tiled floor, had my ankle twisted, and my cheek cut open. Then I forced myself to think about the attempted rape, the definite groping, and the psychological trauma that I was already crumbling under because of that. Not to mention thinking I was going to die at least two times this evening.

"Okay," I agreed, and Eric bit open his wrist and held it out for me. I slurped away, and when I felt a big drop of the cold liquid spill on my lap, I looked down and saw that it was already mixing in with the dried blood and the floral pattern that could actually be seen through all the rips and tears my dress had. I pushed Eric's still-bleeding arm away from me, and blindly reached for the lights. Through those rips I could see big bruises forming on the insides of both of my thighs, and when I lifted the dress up I saw at once that they were shaped like giant handprints. Gabe's giant handprints.

Eric followed my gaze and couldn't look away from my bruised thighs. I couldn't either. My eyes were starting to fill up with tears I refused to cry, and my mouth was quivering, but all I could do was stare down in horror.

… Until I wondered what the rest of me looked like. I quickly pulled down the sun visor and gasped when I saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair looked ragged and wild and even a little orangey-brown around the temples, from the cuts, but my hair was the least of my worries. My cheek was cut open and there was so much dried blood around it I understood why Farrell would have a hard time being near me. In fact, there was so much dried blood everywhere—around my nose and mouth and even in weird places like my hairline and my earlobe. My lips were puffy and swollen—and looked gross even without Eric's blood splattered around my mouth—but then again, my whole face was swollen, and even discolored on the side that had the split cheek.

Horrified, I started shifting in my seat to see what other damage had been done. My collar bone was severely bruised, and there were scrapes of different sizes and degrees of bloodiness up and down my arms. Even my stomach was colored red and blue and black—the parts of it I could see because of the rip Gabe had made, anyway.

Any remaining spirit I had left in me broke just then, and I started sobbing, holding my head in my hands until I accidentally touched one of my many bruises and started crying some more. And then when my salty tears got into the cuts I yelped in even more pain. I was a wreck.

Eric instantly pulled over to the side of the road and leapt out of the car. He opened my door and lifted me up so he was now sitting in the passenger seat and I was sitting on his lap, still crying, but now crying into his chest. To his credit, he tried so hard to comfort me: brushing my hair with his fingers, patting my back, whispering sweet nothings into my ear and telling me everything was going to be okay. But after that did absolutely nothing to help me—in fact, it just made me cry even more because he was so perfect and good to me—and I just kept crying and crying, even though I wanted to stop more than he did. Finally Eric gave up and just held me in his arms for the longest time. And even that wasn't enough to make me stop until I started hiccupping and coughing and gasping for breath. I had cried myself out.

"Eric?"

"Yes, Sookie?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Sure."

"It's important."

"Everything you tell me is important to me."

He said it so simply, so obviously. Even if I couldn't tell that he was telling the truth because of the bond, I would have seen it in his face, his eyes.

I felt the tears coming back in my eyes at his words. He really was so perfect and good to me. "If something like this ever happens again," I started, watching Eric's mouth go in a stubborn straight line, "and you find me too late, or I don't have your blood, or whatever, and I'm lying on my deathbed and you can just feel my heartbeat weaken and you just know I'm going to die … "

I paused, wondering if I'd actually get the balls to go through with this and say what I wanted to say.

"Sookie?" Eric prompted. Yeah, I kinda did stop at the most important part. My bad.

"You can turn me. If there's no other way to save me, then you can turn me."

He stared down at me, and though I was staring back at him I couldn't for the life of me understand what he was thinking. So I turned to what he was feeling—surprise. A lot of surprise. Then acceptance. Then love. Lots of love.

"Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely after a couple moments.

I nodded. "I just wanted you to know that."

"We can talk more about it when you're better," he said with a degree of finality. "But I promise I will do that—although when you are turned, I'd like it to be your decision, not mine."

I noticed he didn't say _if _I was turned, but I decided to bring it up later. "And I want to go back to the hotel," I whispered shakily.

He faintly nodded and kissed me in between my eyebrows, what had to be the only part of my face that wasn't bruised. Once he turned the car on his eyes eyes seemed to never leave my face and I didn't have my seatbelt on and Eric drove like a maniac all the way back to the hotel, but I didn't even have it in me to care.


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N: This should be old news to you guys, but my beta chiisai-kitty ROCKS.**

**...**

I don't know how, but Eric managed to carry me like an armful of bloody laundry through the hotel lobby and up to our suite without attracting any nosy or inquisitive stares from passerby. I remembered to think of Barry and asked Eric if Barry was in the lobby; he said no, and that I was friends with the strangest humans.

Apparently, Barry had been scared out of his mind when he finally gathered up the courage to talk to Eric like I asked him to, but Eric said he treated Barry decently because he had valuable information. When I asked how decently, he replied $500 worth of decency and left it at that.

It got me thinking how "decently" another major human player in tonight's events would be treated. "Eric, what are the vamps going to do with Hugo?" I asked when he was unlocking our suite's door.

He looked back at me curiously. "Sookie, he betrayed an entire nest full of vampires that he spent the past year living with, including the woman he claimed to love. What do you think the vamps are going to do with Hugo?"

"Actually, I think now I'm going to try to _not_ think about that," I muttered, taking off my shoes. Thank God I had just worn ballet flats tonight and not my fancy stilettos, or else I'd be in even more pain. "Eric, I know part of the deal is that if I find any humans, they're to be turned to the police … but Hugo didn't _really_ break any laws. But he still committed terrible crimes, just not illegal ones. Moral crimes, against me, against his lover, against the vampires. But I feel bad that I want the vampires to make him hurt." I shook my head. "I think your vampireness is rubbing off on me."

"Lover, if you weren't injured on almost every square inch of your body, I would be more than happy to show how my vampireness can rub off on you," Eric replied, succeeding in making me laugh. "Do you want me to start you a shower or a bath?"

"Bath."

Eric led me into the bathroom. I noticed he was doing his best to conceal the fact that he was purposely blocking my view of the bathroom's mirror, but I didn't call him out on it. He was probably worried that if I saw my reflection I'd start bawling like I did last time, and I was only about 75% sure that wouldn't happen again.

Once the water was hot and the tub was filled, Eric gently tugged off my clothes and helped me sit down in the Jacuzzi—facing away from the mirror, I might add. I closed my eyes, appreciating the effect hot water had on a sore body and a tired mind. Just when I was thinking to myself that there wasn't anything in the world that could make me open my eyes, I heard the sound of Eric unbuttoning his sweater and unzippering his pants. Of course, I turned around, and saw that he was in his boxers and his socks, and was in the process of unbuttoning his way to just wearing his white undershirt for a top.

"Sorry I keep ruining your shirts," I said, noticing the blood that must have gotten there from when I buried my face in his chest.

"Normally I say I don't mind," Eric started to say, and I winced thinking about how terrifying it was that Eric had a normal standard of how to reply when I bled all over his shirts, "but this time I _really_ don't mind. Your blood is quite possibly the only additional ingredient that could make this hideous shirt wearable. Apparently, bright red and yellow plaid is the idiotic Gap's clerk's idea of the perfect church-going shirt."

Eric threw the offending shirt on the ground and squatted behind me, elbows leaning on the Jacuzzi's edge before he gathered my hair to one side.

"Y'know, I wondered where you got those clothes," I replied. Chuckling, Eric reached for the washcloth and complimentary shower gel and started lathering up, gently washing me and hesitating when I made an unwilling grunt or gasp of displeasure at a particularly sore spot being touched. I don't think there was a single bruise, cut, or scrape that he didn't catch.

"Once Stan told me he wasn't going to send any of his vampires in, I knew I was going to have to go to the church by myself, without any help or distractions. Having decided that pretending to be a human would be the easiest, I went to the closest clothing store, which thankfully was just around the corner, and told the sales associate I was going to church tonight with my girlfriend and I needed an appropriate outfit. Hence the plaid."

"I wish I could have seen that," I murmured.

"I wish there hadn't been a reason for me to do that," he said sourly.

After a beat, I asked, "So where'd you get the bronzer from?"

"The drugstore down the street. It was some sort of foamy substance. I was supposed to wait ten minutes for it to dry, but I didn't have ten minutes." He glanced at his arms, which looked like he had some skin discoloration disease. "I saved the bottle; I didn't use a lot. I thought you might like it, since you've mentioned how much you like tanning in the sun during the summertime."

I laughed. "A vampire buying tanning lotion? Who'd have thunk? But, seriously, Eric, that was smart of you, to think of the bronzer. And sweet of you to remember how much I like to be tan. "

Though this was the same Jacuzzi we had sex in about twenty-four hours ago, and the same one Eric had given me the world's best back massage in, there was nothing sexual about his washing me. I was too tired and sore and unready to even get in that frame of mind. By this time the water had grown colder and murkier with all of the blood Eric had washed off, and he drained the tub as I stood in the shower, the little darts of hot water feeling hostile and hurtful compared to the bathtub.

I scanned my body and saw that most of the cuts were starting to heal and the bruises had turned a blueish-purpley-yellow like they do right before they fade away. That didn't mean my body felt any less sore though; once the tub was full of hot water and Eric made sure I knew that I could rinse my hair in the shower if I wanted to, I walked over to the Jacuzzi in a way that an eighty-year-old might walk.

Eric shampooed my hair, his fingers doing exactly what Bon Temp's only hair stylist, Jo Anne, do to my hair whenever I go for a trim. I had him wash my hair a second time, just because it felt so good—and I could tell my hair really needed it.

Once that was finished Eric toweled me off, and then I hobbled over to the drawers and dressed myself in a tank top and a pair of panties, since I could hear Eric on the phone with the concierge asking for some antiseptic ointment and a box of band aids and guessed he'd probably want to doctor me up. While we waited for the goods to come, we sat on the bed and watched some TV—Eric let me pick what to watch after he checked all the local news stations for anything about the Fellowship of the Sun center (there wasn't anything)— I managed to find an old _Friends_ repeat that had started only ten minutes ago. Once or twice I caught Eric smiling, and I would poke him in the arm when he did that.

The ointment and band aids arrived before the first commercial break, and Eric gratefully tipped the bellboy—not Barry—with a fifty. It wasn't until two _Friends_ episodes had played that Eric started putting blood on the open wounds. Once everything was cleaned and bandaged, he sat down next to me like when we were waiting for the bellboy to come.

"Now that I've seen every cut or bruise on your body at least three times, I want to know how they got there—every single one," he said very seriously, reaching for the remote and turning the TV off.

I began to explain, though I was so worn out my voice faltered from time to time, mostly when I told Eric about being thrown down the stairs. I was barely at a whisper when I described what Gabe had been doing, or trying to do, to me, since Eric's eyes were black with rage and I noticed he had stopped stroking my back during that time. He didn't interrupt me, though, and I went on to Godfrey randomly showing up and what we were talking about before Eric arrived.

"I wish I had been the one to save you from Gabe and kill him," he murmured once I was done, his feather-light fingers dusting my shoulders. "But most of all, I wish I had done more to protect you."

"You did protect me, Eric. You went through so much trouble to rescue me—heck, you even wore makeup for me!" I said, and I was glad that got a small laugh out of him. "So thank you, for everything. Thank you for fighting for me."

"I'll always fight for you," he replied simply. "Though hopefully there won't be any need. I am positive you've demonstrated you've got what it takes, and the queen will recognize it. Stan already has."

"I wonder what he's doing now," I mused.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "But you shouldn't worry about it. You need to rest, Sookie."

"Yeah, I think I'm going to go to sleep. Good night." I kissed him on the cheek and then rolled over on my side. His hands went around my waist, daintily at first, like he was scared he'd break me, and once I didn't say anything the hold became a little stronger.

"Oh! Wait! Eric! Can you wake me up after Stan calls, so you can tell me what happened?" I asked, too comfy to turn around to look at him.

"I will," he said amicably, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek.

I was surprised at how easily I fell asleep, but the next thing I knew Eric was standing on the floor next to my side of the bed and saying my name and I had to blink a couple times before my eyes focused on him.

"I just hung up with Stan," he explained.

"And?" I replied, sitting up straight. Eric sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for my hand.

"No humans were killed tonight. And that's_ including_ Hugo," was the first thing he said—because he knew it was the thing I cared most about.

"Oh, thank God. That's such a relief."

"Stan and about six other vampires went to the church, which apparently was almost empty. He reported that since we were spotted leaving, it had created quite the turmoil amongst the humans. Most of them had already taken off to go home, more concerned about themselves than killing vampires," he said wryly. "But the ones who had remained left almost immediately once they saw Stan and the other vampires enter the church and not burst into flames like Steve Newlin claimed they would. After that, it was just Newlin, his wife, and a couple of humans left."

"What did they do to them?" I quickly asked.

"Nothing. The most that happened was Stan shoved Steve into the wall when the foolish human tried to prevent the vampire sheriff from removing all of the Fellowship weapons in the underground bunker—even the ones in the secret compartments, which of course were easily found. So now the vampires are in control of every single Fellowship-issued stake, gun, chain, silver handcuffs, and any other sort of weapon—Stan said they were being burned as we spoke."

"That's good. What about Godfrey?"

"They couldn't find him. I'm sure they looked everywhere, twice."

"Huh. I bet Farrell just _loved_ that," I muttered.

Eric nodded. "He told Stan that when he first came to The Vampire State Building, about two hours before he was taken, a bartender _and _a waitress asked if the underage-looking vampire had found him. Godfrey is the only vampire in the Dallas area that was turned as a teenager, so it had to be him—he was probably asking around for Farrell to make sure he was there and was too careless to think to glamour them into forgetting it. I got Stan to confess that when they glamoured the witnesses, they only asked if they had seen a black-haired vampire named Farrell that night, not which vampires they had seen that night. I was proud to inform him that if you had read the minds of the people and looked at their memories, then you most definitely would have picked up on the presence of Godfrey, and then we would have had a lead to work on."

"Oh, totally," I agreed. "Serves him right for not trusting us."

"Exactly. This is going to look great for you in front of the queen as well," Eric said, sounding very practical.

I nodded. "So did Stan say what they are going to do to Hugo? You said he was still alive?"

"For now. Stan's holding a contest for the vampires to come up with the most unusual and self-satisfying form of punishment—that keeps him alive. The winner will be decided before dawn. Everyone's pretty excited about it; Stan thinks it will be a great morale booster."

"_Lovely,_" I said sarcastically. Hugo was the thing I felt the most sore about. I wanted him to be punished, but I didn't want the vampires to remove his thumbs.

Eric wisely didn't say anything.

"Oh, speaking of sunrise," I started, "can you wake me up like, forty-five minutes before sunrise?"

"Why?" Eric sounded bewildered, and rightfully so.

"I want to be there when Godfrey meets his final death."

"How do you know where to find him?"

"I just have a feeling. He was really excited about having dress robes and a platform to have as part of his death—he cared more about that then having an audience. I think he's going to show up at the church right before sunrise, and I'd like to be there for him."

"So you want to go back to the place where you were beaten, imprisoned, almost raped, and left to die, just on the chance that you'll find this vampire that six of the oldest and strongest vampires in the area couldn't track? All so you can watch a suicidal vampire you've just met die?"

Chin held high, I replied, "That's right."

"But, _why_?" he pushed.

"I feel like I need to. He was there to save me from Gabe, he was there to save me from the Fellowship … this is his idea of being saved, so I want to be there for him."

"Sookie, what if someone recognizes you? If you weren't able to fight them off before, you definitely won't be able to fight them off now. You can barely walk regularly!"

"You said it was practically deserted there! And I doubt Steve will do anything to me, since he already found out what happens when he tries," I countered.

A heated moment where Eric and I just stared at each other in a standoff, but then he finally replied, "I'm coming with you then."

"What? No! Are you kidding? He wants to meet the sun. If you go, you'll end up meeting the sun too!"

"I'll be in a coffin in the back of the Range Rover. If anything should happen to you, I'll be there. I'll be able to feel you; I felt it yesterday, except I knew I couldn't do anything about it. As long as I bring a lot of blankets and wear a lot of layers, I think I will be okay. And I'll find a gun for you—do you know how to shoot?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied anxiously, thinking it'd be the same as shooting water guns at fairs.

He sighed. "Go back to sleep, and I'll wake you when it's time to go."

"Okay," I said, and Eric walked into the other room and closed the door on me.

It felt like I laid there in the dark for forever, but I finally managed to fall asleep. Then, like the perfect definition of déjà vu, Eric was standing over me again, patting me awake. I was a little surprised he didn't just not wake me up like I thought he might, and I instantly hated myself for doubting him, even for a second.

I put on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, noticing that some of the cuts had already disappeared, and then I joined Eric in the living room. His idea of comfy clothes included jeans and a black turtleneck and olive green zip-up hoodie. He was holding a black ski mask, a blue scarf, and black mittens. His hair had grown to chin-length, which I thought was fascinating. It reminded me of a doll I'd see commercials for on TV that could grow its own hair. Unfortunately, Eric didn't find that as funny as I did. But he did seem to like how I kept finger-combing his new locks.

Once I managed to tear my eyes and hands away from my own personal science experiment, I noticed there was an open coffin—filled with blankets—in the living room, and I switched my gaze to that; for all the hanging around with vamps that I'd done, I'd never actually _seen_ a coffin.

"So that's the coffin I'll be in," he said, gesturing to it. "I called the concierge and there should be a bellboy here any moment to take me down. The Range Rover is already in front of the hotel, with the backseats put down so there's enough room for me. You'll drive."

"Okay," I nodded.

"Here's your gun," Eric said, handing it to me. I accepted in gingerly, like it might actually go off. I didn't ask where he got it, and he didn't tell me.

I put it in my purse and Eric asked, "You still have your mace, correct?"

"Yep." I took it out and showed him.

"Good. I've arranged for you to have a bodyguard—his name is Carlos, and he's the hotel's best bodyguard. He'll be coming with you. Sorry, with us."

"You didn't need to do that," I said.

"Yes, I did."

"I'll be fine."

"The last time you said those words was about going into the Fellowship," Eric muttered before pulling the ski mask on and getting in the coffin.

…

Eric needn't have worried so much—there were only a couple cars in the parking lot of the church, and one of them was probably Gabe's, I sadly realized. The lights were off in the building, and I didn't see anyone.

"Okay, I'm going out now," I called out to Eric, who had insisted I periodically yell to him and tell him I was okay during the car ride.

"Be safe," came his muffled response, "and hold your mace the whole time."

I got out of the car and slowly approached the building, with Carlos walking in front of me, gun held in front of him. I thought it was a little extreme, but he looked and acted like the stereotypical movie bodyguard—big and bald and not very talkative but you still trusted him with your life.

I could only "hear" two brains in the center, but they were far away. I did, as soon as I made it to the pathway leading to the garden, sense a vampire mind, and Godfrey stepped out of the shadows about a second later.

"Go to sleep," he said to Carlos, glamouring him. "You will wake at the sound of a hand clap."

Carlos promptly fell on the ground, fast asleep.

Mouth dropped, I looked up at Godfrey. "Wow. That was like a vampire hypnotist trick."

"It's what glamouring is, in its purest form," he shrugged, "and I know you'll need to bring him home with you, wherever that is. You should not have come back."

"You're not the only one to tell me that," I said.

"Yes, Northman's here. I assume he's the reason for the human, and that he is protected in a coffin in the car and therefore won't abduct me?"

"I wouldn't do that to you, Godfrey," I said quietly. "Carlos was just here to protect me, in case I was caught."

Godfrey didn't say anything, and I added, "I wanted to be here with you when you die."

He tilted his head as he asked, "Is that so?"

"This might sound silly … but I feel like I owe it to you."

He replied, "That does sound silly. I am an evil creature." He said it like the fact that it was, not like he was fishing for a rebuttal or protest from me. That made the statement even scarier.

"Yes, you are," I said, since that was the truth. "But I didn't see that side of you when you saved me many times this evening. You killed Gabe when he was trying to rape me. You helped me escape."

"I am partly responsible for your being brought here. They were going to tie you to Farrell and burn you. I didn't protest it. I thought it was interesting, even," he admitted slowly.

"I know. But you still prevented it from happening," I replied, only a little shakily.

"By killing one man? I have killed so many humans that the only reason I've remembered his death is because it will be my last killing in a list that spans more than nine hundred years. And there aren't that many humans I have saved, but you're one of them."

I couldn't think of anything to say. Godfrey didn't wait, turning around and walking over to the stage that, absurdly, was still up. I listlessly trailed behind him, following him onto the platform but keeping my distance. The sun was just starting to get up, and I could see the sky preparing to change its colors. Godfrey was watching it too, looking more excited than I'd ever seen him.

He didn't say anything to me. I doubted he even noticed I was there, he was that focused on that silly ball of light I saw every morning and never thought twice about it. To him, it might have seemed like the meaning of life—or death—was in the bright hue. When his skin began to smoke and he didn't even flinch or look down at it, I started crying. I was amazed at myself for having tears, and Godfrey seemed just as surprised.

He turned then, upon hearing my sniffles and sighs. His gaze was surprised at first, and then he looked vulnerable and relaxed. "You are the most abnormal human, Sookie Stackhouse. Thank you," he remarked, his soft, distant voice tugging at my heart strings.

He was thanking me for crying for him, which of course made me cry even more.

It was the last thing he said, because a couple seconds later Godfrey was no more. He was just a memory—one that I would go back to over and over again.

Once I was able to compose myself, I went over and clapped in Carlos' ear. He woke up very confused and inquisitive, which was funny because he had been so silent on the way over. He became white with shock, even though he was already very pale, when he found out he'd been out for a couple of minutes. But as soon as he was assured I was fine and wouldn't let Northman "make a cocktail out of my blood like he said he would if you so much as broke your nail!" he seemed okay.

Walking back to the car took even longer than it would have, because I was still crying so hard. I handed Darrell the keys and got in the backseat. I thumped Eric's coffin (stainless steel, like plain wood was too old-fashioned for the Hotel Carmilla), which was the signal we had decided that I would use to tell Eric I was okay. After nothing happened, I pressed an ear to the top. "ERIC?" I yelled, mouth pressing the steel, and banged on the coffin.

A bout a moment later I heard a faint knock come back, and in a thick voice I heard him say, "Everything … okay?"

"YES!" I shouted, and Carlos started driving. I stayed slumped over Eric's coffin, tears still streaming down my face.

Once we were back at the hotel and Carlos helped me put Eric's coffin in the living room, I started to cheer up a little. Godfrey had gotten his wish after all. Eric was safe—I opened the casket with the security code Eric gave me, and he was still in there, his skin not on fire. I removed the scarf, ski mask—how he managed to get a ski mask in Dallas in the middle of winter was beyond me—and gloves off of him before I tried lifting him out of the coffin, but he was so heavy in his comatose state I couldn't do it. Sighing resignedly, I kissed his forehead and staggered into the bedroom, quickly falling asleep.

...

**A/N: AYO! 50 chapters! AYO AYO AYO! NEVER EVER EVER saw that happening. And never saw all of the responses this FF has garnered. It is MIND BLOWING that I've written a story that's 50 chapters and still counting (though not for long :/) and people still care about it. **

**You guys are everything you should be-awesome, nice, funny as hell. I haven't replied to reviews in a while, but I still love hearing what you guys have to stay. I can't believe I have over 2500 reviews either ... it's cuhrazee. As tvgirlSVM said a little while back, I'm no longer in the Eric/thousand-year-old viking club ... more like the Godric club! And all because of you beautiful people. *muah***


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N: Fifty-one chapters in, you guys should know this by now, but my beta chiisai-kitty is all sorts of win. **

**Some of the passages here are taken directly from **_**Living Dead in Dallas**_**; I thought they were a good set-up and didn't need to be changed. And, CH owns these characters.**

…

When I woke up the next day, it was after the sun went down, and Eric was lying under the covers next to me, typing on his laptop. His hair had grown back to its normal length and he wasn't wearing a shirt, so his skin looked really fucked up, since his arms, face, and neck were sloppily tan and the rest of him was pale as milk. I laughed a little laugh, and he looked up once he realized I was awake.

"Someone was sleepy," he said, smiling at me as he closed his laptop shut.

"Hey," I replied, stretching my arms over my head.

"When I went downstairs to ask Carlos what happened this morning," Eric started, not very smiley anymore, "all he knew was that one moment he was looking at a teenage vampire, and the next moment there was no vampire but a steaming pile of black stuff on the wooden platform. Care to explain?"

"Oh my God, you didn't make his blood into a cocktail yet, did you?" I asked quickly, sitting up straight, like the dad in my favorite board game, Don't Wake Daddy.

Eric sat up so our shoulders and arms were touching. "No, not yet. What happened?"

I told Eric everything that happened with Godfrey, and he quickly forgot all about the Carlos issue when he heard how Godfrey had met the sun. "Was he very brave?" he questioned, the only thing he said the whole time I was talking.

"Very brave," I replied. "Almost too brave, if that makes sense."

After a moment, he nodded. After another moment, he said, "It does. I often think that about you."

"Oh." I didn't know how to reply to that. "Your hair grew back."

"I know. Your wounds have mostly faded."

I inspected my arms and legs, which didn't look as banged up, and then patted my face, which didn't feel as puffy. "I know."

"Stan called shortly after sunset. He's hosting a party to celebrate Farrell's safe return."

"_Safe?" _I exclaimed incredulously, "Eric, that man looked like a murder victim last time we saw him."

Eric shrugged. "Vampires and humans have different definitions of the word 'safe.' In this particular case, the vampire version is less severe," he explained.

"Huh."

Changing topics, Eric said, "I've booked us a flight back to Shreveport for tomorrow at nine. Our work here is done."

"Thank God," I muttered under my breath. I couldn't wait to just go home and be with Eric without any outside forces trying to kill us or separate us. "What time does Stan's party start, Eric?"

"The party starts at ten."

"Ten, you said? As in, we have a lot of time before then?" I asked before leaning over to give Eric a big, romantic kiss. "Alone time?"

"That depends on your definition of 'alone time.'"

That didn't sound good. "Just me and you, alone time? Preferably naked?" I replied. What other definition of "alone time" was there?

"Oh," Eric said, exhaling dejectedly and nodding his head.

"What?" I asked, my heart racing. I couldn't sense anyone else in our suite, but I did catch a human outside. What was Eric's definition of 'alone?' Oh my God. Oh my God. No. No, this wasn't happening. I was just being able to enjoy having sex with Eric; I didn't want to share him with anyone. I was Greedy with a capital 'G' because I wanted him all to myself.

"It's nothing," he soberly replied, eyes looking nowhere near me.

Bending his head so his hair was hiding his face, he started to get out from under the covers and I quickly leaned over and put my hand on top of his, effectively stopping him from leaving for the time being. "Eric, come on, what is it?"

He looked over at me, smirking as he smoothly said, "Well, lover, I had planned on spending some alone time with you and the bed, or the Jacuzzi, or the shower. But it's fine."

"Uh, no, it's not," I replied in an obvious tone, hating myself for falling for his joke. Payback time.

I felt a tear of surprise come hurtling over from Eric, and I stopped fighting the grin that had threatened to overtake my face once I saw Eric's eyes widen. "I think you meant to say, the bed, _and_ the Jacuzzi, _and _the shower. And you also forgot about the wall outside our private balcony."

His face relaxed, and he was on top of me before I knew it. "I think this is the one time I stand corrected," he said in the most seducing voice before he bent his head and laid the mother of all kisses on me.

"We should do something to celebrate it," I said wickedly, my thumbs tracing his jaw line.

"What about your injuries?" he asked, looking down on me.

"Oh, yeah. Could you just, I don't know, feed me your blood? I mean, if that's okay with you?"

_It was more than okay with him._

…

We'd arrived "fashionably late" around 10:30, and it seemed like the party was well on its way. The living room was buzzing with vampires and their special humans, with the vampires looking almost as rosy as the humans themselves.

"Everyone's staring at me. I smell like sex, don't I?" I whispered to Eric once we arrived at Stan's and almost every vampire gave me the once-over once we walked into the living room. "I knew doing it in the shower wouldn't help."

Eric hid his snigger by brushing a wayward piece of hair away from his face. "Well, yes. But you're forgetting you're also the human responsible for rescuing a vampire and eliminating the Fellowship of the Sun's weaponry. Plus, you're the most beautiful woman in the room, especially in that dress," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

I looked down at my purple wrap dress. The slinky little navy dress I had also purchased would have been the perfect thing to wear, but it wouldn't have looked so good on me in my current condition, even if my bruises matched the dress. The red fuck-me shoes also could have made their debut, but my feet were the one part of me that didn't hurt and I wanted to keep it that way, so I stuck with my ballet flats. Everything else was packed, since Eric and I were leaving for the airport first thing tomorrow.

Because of that, any underwear I had left gave a visible panty line, so I was currently sans underwear, which in relation to things probably didn't mean that much since I would have smelt like sex even if I was wearing a big puffy ski suit.

Eric just smiled and raised a hand to a vampire wearing a jean shirt with jeans and—I'm not even kidding—a pair of red cowboy boots with _spurs_. It took me a second to recognize that it was a normal-looking Farrell, except he'd tied his hair back and was wearing a cowboy hat.

Eric said he needed to "socialize" with some of the other vampires, and after introducing me to one of the other human girlfriends he went on his way, schmoozing with the best of the vampires while drinking blood out of a champagne glass. He kind of stuck out (even though he had made sure he'd scrubbed every last particle of the tanner off) not just because of his obvious handsomeness, but because he was the only man in a suit (black with a light blue shirt underneath, two buttons open); every other guy was wearing their cowboy costume.

Unfortunately, I soon found out that the human girlfriend Kristy was a terrible conversationalist; she seemed more concerned with what Eric was like than what my name was. I politely excused myself after a couple of the most awkward moments of my life and wandered over to the makeshift bar, where I picked up a champagne glass that actually had champagne in it.

After that I saw Farrell sitting on a couch with a very handsome, very _young_ man, and he waved me over.

"Farrell, you're looking much better," I said easily, sitting next to him. I smiled at his companion, who simply nodded at me as I continued, "I could hardly recognize you tonight!"

"My dear, I could say the same about you!" he exclaimed, taking both of my hands in his and raising them to his lips."Eric had mentioned you feel self-conscious about your bruises."

"Oh, he did, did he?" I said kinda-but-not-really angrily, raising an eyebrow at Eric, who was standing near the hallway leading to Stan's office, deep in conversation with two male vampires. He grinned sheepishly at me, no doubt hearing the conversation I was having.

Farrell explained, "Oh, yes. You see, I find the human immune system to be most curious. It's not often that I meet humans that are injured and not by vampires. The injuries are not even comparable."

"Oh. I … didn't know that," I fumbled.

Farrell paid no attention to my awkwardness. "But I must say, you look beautiful in spite of them. Perhaps because of them, but I'm no sadist. At least, not outside of the bedroom. Isn't that right, Christopher?" Farrell laughed, turning to look at the boy next to him.

Understandably, Christopher started coughing on his Coke and stared fearfully at me; in all honesty, I didn't blame him. I would throw a fit of Eric started telling strangers what we had been doing just an hour ago … not that I had no idea of knowing what he told the people he was talking to, since I just found out he had told Farrell I was feeling self-conscious. I resolved to have a talk with Eric later on.

"Perhaps you should go to the bathroom and clean yourself up," Farrell said, disdainfully eyeing the stain on Christopher's green-and-white striped tank top.

"Here, take my Tide-To-Go stick," I called out as Christopher obediently stood up. I took the stain-remover pen out of my purse and placed it in the poor boy's shaken hand. I could tell he was eighteen, and that his family thought he was at his fake girlfriend's house. He walked away after his muttered thank-you, obviously embarrassed at Farrell's lack of secrecy about what went on in the bedroom.

I had no idea what to say after that, but luckily Eric came over and rescued me. "Sookie, Stan would like to see us now," he said as he approached the couch, holding out a hand for me.

I excused myself from Farrell, who went off to find Christopher, and together Eric and I walked to Stan's office.

He was sitting in his chair, wearing the same nerd costume as before, but he stood up when we entered. "Miss Stackhouse," he said formally, shaking my hand with great care. "Eric." They nodded.

Stan gestured to the seats, and Eric and I both sat down. After a moment, he did too. Stan examined me with his washed-out blue eyes, and after a thorough inspection he added, "You look less damaged tonight."

Boy, those Dallas vampires really knew how to compliment a human. I slapped a smile on my face but still replied, "Thanks. I feel less damaged tonight as well."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Eric trying to contain his grin, which of course made my grin a little slippery.

Stan tipped his head and looked at me, but that only lasted for a few seconds. Then he was all business, asking if it was true I saw Godfrey meet the sun this morning.

To my amazement, Stan could not seem to absorb Godfrey's death. He made me repeat the story twice, and then he asked Eric for confirmation. Stan seemed particularly interested in finding out if Godfrey had been brave. It seemed so strange to me that when I told both vampires about how Godfrey had met the sun, almost the first thing they did was ask if he was brave.

Eric had never said if Stan and Godfrey were close, and I never thought to ask, but when Stan swiveled in his chair to face the other way while I spoke, I noticed he was wiping his eyes with a red-stained handkerchief.

Eric didn't say anything, and I didn't either. I was silently crying right along with Stan, and my vision was too blurry and my brain already too busy working overtime to think to look over at Eric and see what he was doing.

For his centuries of molesting and killing children, Godfrey had deserved to die. I wondered how many humans were in jail for crimes Godfrey had committed. But Godfrey had helped me, and Godfrey had carried with him the most tremendous load of guilt and grief I'd ever encountered.

"Thank you for being there for him, in the end," Stan said finally; the only indicator that he had been crying was that his eyes were still rimmed with red. "From what you've said, it meant a lot to him that you were there. Therefore, it means a lot to me that you were there. Thank you."

"Of course," I replied, "and it means a lot to me too."

Stan nodded. "I must admit, my expectations for you weren't very high, but you surpassed them and then some. You will always be welcome in Dallas, and I will always think of you in the highest esteem I have for humans. You're on the same level as Vladmir Putin and Oprah, in my opinion."

Wow. That was a compliment if there ever was one. "Thank you, Stan," I managed.

"_Thank you_, Sookie Stackhouse. I'll do my best to help you in your struggle against the queen."

I got the sense that he was essentially dismissing us, and that we could leave, but there was still one thing I had to ask. "Again, thank you. But, I have to ask, what happened to Hugo?"

Stan looked at Eric for a couple seconds before switching his gaze back to me. "He is being taken care of."

"How?"

Stan looked at Eric, who looked at me. I stuck my chin out and nodded at him. Eric then turned to Stan and raised an eyebrow.

After a moment he stood, and with a curt little jerk of his hand, indicated I should follow him. We trailed after Stan as he walked deeper into the house. After many lefts and rights, we finally ended up at some stairs, which we went up. Stan finally stopped at a door that looked like all the others. He unlocked it, and then stood aside and gestured to me to go in.

That was something I didn't want to do—oh, so much. But I had to. I stepped forward and looked in.

Except for the dark blue wall-to-wall, the room was bare. Isabel was chained to the wall on one side of the room—with silver, of course. Hugo was on the other. He was chained, too. They were both awake, and they both looked at the doorway, naturally.

Isabel nodded as if we'd met in the mall, though she was naked. I saw that her wrists and ankles were padded to prevent the silver from burning her, though the chains would still keep her weak.

Hugo was naked, too. He could not take his eyes off Isabel. He barely glanced at me to see who I was before his gaze returned to her. I tried not to be embarrassed, because that seemed such a petty consideration, but this was the second time I'd seen another naked man in my life.

From somewhere behind me, Stan said, "She cannot feed off him, though she is hungry. He cannot have sex with her, though he is addicted. This is their punishment, for months."

"_Months_?" I asked. I turned around and saw him and Eric standing side-by-side.

Stan shrugged. "Three or four months. We will feed Hugo, of course. Not Isabel."

"And then?"

"We'll unchain him first. He will get a day's head start."

Isabel looked at me and nodded. This seemed fair to her, she was saying. I couldn't believe it. I'd had enough.

"All right," I said, holding my palms forward in the "Stop" position. "All right." And I turned and made my way slowly and carefully down the stairs.

I had lost some integrity, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what I could do differently. The more I tried to think about it, the more confused I got. I am not used to thinking through moral issues. Things are bad to do, or they aren't.

Well, there was a gray area, as I was finding out. That's where a few things fell, like sleeping with Eric though we weren't married or telling Arlene her dress looked good, when in fact it made her look like hell.

My thoughts wandered in a dithery circle around the miserable couple in the upstairs bedroom. I was still feeling guilty about what happened to him, and I was kinda grateful for it, actually, because right now I was wondering if I still had any humanity in me. Was it wrong to not care if there was a man in pain, when he had caused me lots and lots of pain—pain that I was still feeling every time I walked or thought back to last night?

To my amazement, I felt much sorrier for Isabel than for Hugo. Hugo, after all, was guilty of active evil. Isabel was only guilty of negligence.

Eric was watching me closely as I walked out of the room without another word. I nodded goodbye at Stan and made my way back to the living room, Eric hot on my heels.

"I thought you were going to protest Hugo's punishment," he said quietly as we walked back to the foyer.

"I did too," I replied just as quietly.

Lightly placing a hand on my back as we entered the party room, Eric bent down and murmured, "It's not wrong that you didn't."

I felt a sure of comfort pushed through the bond coming from Eric, and I felt a little better after that. I didn't know if the added comfort had something to do with it, but it probably was because Eric was so thoughtful and accommodating.

'_Then why does it feel like it does?' _I thought to myself, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to open that can of worms with myself, and I certainly didn't want to open it with Eric.

He grabbed us drinks and led us to a couch. I guessed his sheriff socializing was done, because all he did was sit and talk to me. We weren't being very social, but I was getting back to the point where I was having a good time.

"Y'know, if vampires weren't so high-and-mighty, I bet they could make a lot of big bucks with some sort of vampire designated-driver service," I informed Eric, watching one of the human pets stumble drunkenly, her drink spilling over her tissue-sized dress.

"Interesting theory, and one that hasn't been tested, to the best of my knowledge," Eric replied, already mulling it over as he watched that same girl. "You might be onto something."

"Shreveport does have two colleges, doesn't it?"

"That it does," he replied, beaming at me. He absentmindedly leaned over to give me a kiss, but I suddenly put my hand across his mouth, stopping him so I wouldn't have any distractions.

Now, if you're going to stop Eric Northman from kissing you, you better have a damn good reason to do it—and I did.

I moved my head from side to side, trying to get the best reception; that's the best way I can explain it. Was I really hearing what I was hearing?

I stood up, and without a word Eric did the same. He didn't say anything, but I dimly registered that he was glancing around the room, no doubt wondering what the hell I was looking at. Or why the hell I stopped him from kissing me.

I could feel my eyebrows draw together in concentration. And then it hit me.

I was hearing people. A lot of people. They were all around us. They circled the house.

Their brains were wound up to fever pitch. If I hadn't been talking so much with Eric earlier, I might have heard them as they crept up to circle the house.

"Eric," I said, trying to catch as many thoughts as I could, hearing a countdown—oh my God!

"HIT THE FLOOR!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

Every vampire obeyed.

So when the Fellowship opened fire, it was the humans that died.

Eric was lying on top of me. I wanted to try and push him off of me, so he wasn't as elevated and vulnerable to being shot, but then I realized that if he were hit with bullets, he would most likely survive. I wouldn't. So I accepted his shelter gratefully for the horrible minutes of the first wave of the attack, when rifles and shotguns and handguns were fired into the suburban mansion over and over.

Instinctively, I shut my eyes while the blasting lasted. Glass shattered, vampires roared, humans screamed. The noise battered at me, just as the tidal wave of scores of brains at high gear washed over me. When it began to taper off, I looked up into Eric's eyes. Incredibly, he was excited. He smiled at me.

"I know I was already on top of you tonight, but this is even better," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Are you trying to make me horny so I'll forget how scared I am?" I said, staring fearfully into his eyes.

He winked and sent calmness to me. "No, I'm just opportunistic. But if you're horny, I'm not complaining."

I wiggled my body, to make sure nothing hurt more than usual, and he said, "Oh, do that again. It felt great."

I almost laughed, but I was too busy reading the thoughts of the Fellowship of the Sun members. It seemed most of them were starting to run back outside, but I could tell that also by the sounds of vehicles pulling out in a hurry up and down the quiet suburban street. The attack was over. I seemed to be having trouble breathing, and figuring out what I should do next. Surely there was something, some action, I should be taking?

The room was full of the survivors' screams and the vampires' howls of rage. Bits of stuffing from the couch and chairs floated in the air like snow. There was broken glass on everything and the heat of the night poured into the room. Several of the vampires were already up and giving chase. Eric turned his head so he could see what he was going on, but he didn't seem that interested in joining them.

"No excuse to linger," Eric said with a mock sigh, and lifted off of me. He looked down at me. "Ah, the tables have turned. I got blood on your shirt this time."

I looked down and saw that there was in fact blood on my dress—and my chest. Nothing hurt though. "Oh shit, Eric," I mumbled, getting to my knees with clumsy haste. "You're hit."

We both looked at his shirt, which was blood red and had a little hole right by his left nipple. He gingerly patted it, and nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, that's a bullet," he said nonchalantly.

Someone vampire-rushed past us, blowing my hair in the breeze, and Eric and I both craned our heads to see who it was, Eric's gazing lasting longer than mine. But then the moment passed, and he looked back down at his chest, ripping open the tear to get a better look at the bullet.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked, pointing to the wound. "I can go to the kitchen and get a wet washcloth or a towel or something. Maybe a knife, to get it out?"

"Why don't you just suck it out?" he suggested.

I stared at him. "Suck it out?"

He shrugged. "Why not? It's going to come out eventually, but since I'm in pain right now I'd rather have it be sooner than later."

"I've never sucked a bullet out of anyone's chest before," I said dubiously. How on earth could I do that? I had no idea how to do that. I'd be terrible at it, I knew that.

"Does that mean I would be your first?" Eric smirked at me, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"You betcha," I said, not very enthusiastically. "So, how are we going to do this?"

In response, Eric lied back down on the floor, and I climbed on top of him. I used his discarded shirt as a swab. The bleeding was slowing, and by peering into the torn flesh, I could just see the bullet. If I'd had long fingernails, I'd have been able to get it out, but my fingers are short and blunt, and my nails are clipped close.

"So this puts a new spin on the phrase 'biting the bullet,'" Eric said, watching me stare at his wound.

I choked out a laugh as I bent my head down. I kissed the wound first, and then started sucking. I heard Eric gave a long moan as I sucked, and then after a couple moments I felt the bullet pop into my mouth.

Since I almost just swallowed it, I quickly spat the bullet onto the floor. After I wiped my bloody mouth with the back of my hand, I peered down to check on the injury. His shoulder was already healing, so I started to get off of him, so he could sit up.

"You were a natural," he whispered, reaching up and bringing me back down to him. "Your lips are bloody."

Before I could respond, he seized my face in both hands and kissed me. It's hard not to respond when a master of the art of kissing is laying one on you—even when you're in a room with blood and death and injuries. Brushes with death have that effect. You want to reaffirm the fact that you're alive. Though vampires actually aren't, it seems they are no more immune to that syndrome than humans, and Eric's libido was cracking.

I realized that people had more interesting things to do right now, right here, than watch me and Eric make out, but I still had to force myself to stop kissing Eric. It was hard, but I managed to roll off of him and stand up. My reasoning had been so I could help the humans screaming in pain all around us, but now I realized that most of those who were still alive had help from other humans or from a select few vampires who hadn't joined in the chase.

I glanced at his shoulder again, to see the hole had begun to close. I picked up the bullet off the carpet, tacky as it was with blood, and wrapped it in a scrap from Eric's shirt. It seemed like a good memento, at the time. Eric didn't say anything about it as he watched me put it in my purse.

Sirens were sounding in the distance, and Eric cocked his head towards the front door. "The police are coming. If we don't leave now, we're going to get stuck here."

I held out my hand for Eric. "Let's go."

We made it out to the driveway, where we saw a couple vampires coming back, rosy-cheeked and obviously in high spirits about it. Now I really wanted to go, and Eric picked up on it. He carried me to the car and soon we were driving on the main road, watching the police cars go by us in the opposite direction.

After a couple minutes, Eric turned to me and said, "I could arrange for a flight to Shreveport that would leave tonight, if you wanted."

I nodded. "Do it. I mean, if you're okay to go back home."

"Oh, believe me, I am." And with that, he took his phone out of his breast pocket, and though I mostly just stared out the window I heard him make our arrangements. When he hung up, he was smiling. "We need to leave for the airport in an hour. We'll be back in Louisiana before sunrise."

"Good."

...

**A/N: Yay! Home sweet home! Right...?**


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N: uh hiiiii. So. About the waiting time … I'm sorry. School's been so busy—it's a total life change, and I'm trying my best not to let it change my writing, but shit happens. I'll try to keep a better writing/posting record. **

**Anyways, big Big BIG thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty for reading this over even though she's as busy as I am. Much love. And, as always, thanks to Charlaine Harris for reasons I'm sure you know by now. **

…

Eric and I were mostly quiet the ride to the hotel. I don't know how Eric managed to contain himself when we were both covered in blood (and sledge, and debris, and gross things I didn't want to think about) but he did it—it was like his desire to get us out was greater than his bloodlust. That being said, he drove faster than he normally did—so fast I had to look out my mirror and make sure the tar wasn't smoking—and his knuckles clutching the wheel were bone-white. One of the few times we talked was when he mentioned how grateful he was we weren't in his Corvette, because we were making the Range Rover stained and stinky. And silent.

When we showered, it was separately, but only to save time—Eric arranged for our checking out while I cleaned up, and I tidied up the room and double-checked our bags while he showered. Since our flight was so soon, we didn't have time to fool around like we did the last time we were in this shower, before we went to Stan's. When I caught Eric pouting, I reminded him that we still had the flight to look forward to, and his demeanor perked up once he remembered he needed to induct me in the mile-high club. I had a comfortable shower, which was odd considering how I mostly just tried to clean the grossness off of me.

During the ride to the airport, Eric listened to the news on the radio, his eyes peering out the window as his fingers listlessly drummed on the steering wheel—especially during the commercials. The reports were very scattered and we could tell some inaccuracies, but the hot topic of the evening, understandably, was the "Dallas Midnight Massacre," as people were starting to call it. The Fellowship of the Sun's name was being thrown around, though there was no official statement from the organization or any of its members, and Nan Flanagan was calling in to "comment" on the event—mostly blast the Fellowship of the Sun. Thanks to her PR work, the vampires of Dallas and their human friends were already being called martyrs, which Stan would probably be pleased with, if he wasn't too busy tending to the wounded.

When Eric was at the rental car counter filling out forms and trying to fish his car keys out of his breast pocket, his cell phone rang; already bothered by filling out the necessary paperwork, he thrust the phone at me as soon as he glanced at the screen. "It's Pam. She'll want to know I'm okay."

"Oh, just you?" I playfully replied as I took the phone, and he threw me a wink before he went back to signing "here" and "here" and "here" and initialing "there."

"Hi, Pam," I said, answering the phone.

"Sookie? Why aren't I talking to Eric right now?" she shouted.

"Eric's fine. He's just returning our car, but he's fine. We're both fine."

"Less paperwork for me to fill out. Good," Pam replied in her normal speaking voice, trying to cover up from earlier.

I started to call her out on it, but stopped when I heard a loud beep in my ear. Thinking I had just pressed a button, I moved the phone so I could look at its screen—and almost dropped it when I saw what was written there: "Sophie-Anne."

"Eric!" I said urgently, and Eric turned his head to see what was up. I barely heard Pam say, "What?" from the phone, my heart was pumping so loudly, so quickly.

He raised his brows, and I tossed the phone at him like it was an expensive hot potato. I could tell the exact second he read the screen, because that was when his features tightened and he looked up at me.

"Pam, it's Sophie-Anne. I'll call you later," he said, bringing the phone to his ear.

He waited a moment, and then gruffly said, "Later, Pam," and hung up.

In the next second his voice went from sandpaper to silk as he took the queen's call. "Good evening, your majesty."

"Yes, we were there, but she's fine. The explosion didn't cause any injuries for her," he said a few seconds later, cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he pushed the papers toward the elderly clerk.

The old man's eyes had widened at the "your majesty" part, but, thinking on the spot, I told him, "Oh, it's his little sister—he spoils her so much." Thankfully, the clerk seemed to accept it, nodding his head.

After looking back at me during that exchange, Eric picked up his bag and motioned for me to follow him, which I did. As that happened he added, "Yes, I am fine as well." Pause. "We're leaving now, actually. We're in the airport to go back to Shreveport. I, ah, didn't want to risk any other harm to your telepath."

"That too," he added after a moment, his mouth turning grim.

After that, he mostly listened and didn't say much except a few tense "of course"'s or "yes"'s as we walked over to our jet. Once again, we were the only passengers on the plane, and Eric didn't even need to tell me to get readings on all of the crewmembers.

Eric then made his excuse to Sophie-Anne, claiming we were about to take off and he needed to turn off his phone—except we weren't, and he didn't, but hey, it's not like I was going to rat him out.

When Eric finally hung up the phone, he slunk into his seat and ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed unnecessarily, his chest rising up, then down, with the movement.

"What's up?" I asked, leaning over the armrest to put my hand over his.

He paused, then turned to look at me. "She said she wants to meet you. Not when we land, of course, but … soon."

"Great," I muttered weakly.

"I know," he quietly replied, moving his seat back and stretching his long legs under the seat in front of him.

…

Once we got past the queen's intrusion, Eric reminded me of his promise to induct me into the mile-high club, and the next thing I knew we were in the tiny airplane bathroom doing exactly what a man and a woman do in a tiny airplane bathroom—after I made sure Eric glamoured the stewardesses so they wouldn't come within ten feet of the bathroom. He was making good on his promise and I was more than willing, which was why he was lifting me up to sit on the little sink counter and opening my legs to let him get closer to me.

It figured the one time I was wearing pants (well, jeans, actually) this whole trip was the time where a dress or skirt would have been for the best.

It didn't matter now; I mean, hey, it's not like a pair of jeans was going to stop Eric and I. Not when he was pressing into me like he was doing now—I just have to say, the counter top was the _perfect_ height, and it made me wonder if Eric planned that.

"You like this?" he growled into my neck, his hands tugging at my hair before he lifted his head to bite my ear. He was bent over me, stooping almost, and he was being rough, rougher than he'd ever been. His kisses were short and fiery and only stopped when he bit my lower lip or nipped at my neck, which he was doing a lot. His movements were frenzied and urgent, like he was on a mission.

I don't know if it was his roughness, or the claustrophobic, closed-off room that we were in, or the huge amount of stress I'd experienced in such a short amount of time or what, but all of a sudden Eric's hands aged and got tanner, with more age spots and knuckle wrinkles. And his arms, his arms became tanner and hairier and more leather-like, and then Eric wasn't wearing jeans and a tee anymore, but matching gray sweats with the Fellowship of the Sun logo. And then, when I looked up, Eric wasn't Eric anymore.

He was Gabe.

Eric was Gabe and I was still Sookie, but I was wearing the same ripped dress I had worn to the Fellowship of the Sun. And we weren't in an airplane bathroom, but in the basement, that _fucking_ basement.

I spastically pushed Eric away and he let me, even though his back slammed against the wall, the small space not giving him enough room to catch his balance.

"Why are you scared?" Eric asked hoarsely, coming towards me as soon as he recovered. He sounded as surprised as he felt. When I failed to respond or even look at him, he probed, "Sookie?"

I didn't say anything, trying to catch my breath. The sound of my heaving was the only thing that could be heard for a couple awful seconds before Eric tried again.

"Sookie, talk to me," he said, tentatively cupping my face in his hands; he had moved so slowly before he did that, like he didn't know if I was going to push him away again. That killed me.

After a couple seconds I whisper-replied, "I'm sorry … I just, just … freaked out a little there."

Eric tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and I leaned into his hand. "I know. But why?"

I held my arms out for him and he stepped forward even more. Burying my face in the crook of his neck, I mumbled, not able to look at him, "I thought you were Gabe. I mean, you _were _Gabe. And I was in the Fellowship basement."

Oh, God. Some people fantasize about the person they want to have sex with. Me, I think of my would-be rapist.

As soon as I thought that, I started hyperventilating again. I could hear my heartbeat increasing, and I knew Eric could too. I ran my fingers through my hair, and Eric kind of leaned back so I'd have enough room. I didn't like that. I held my arms out for him, and he tentatively stepped forward and put his arms around my waist, like how a nervous teenage boy would slow-dance with you on prom night.

"This happened …" he said, thinking to himself. He cleared his throat and said, directly to me this time, "I was wondering why this didn't come up earlier, before the party."

He was right. He was so right. "Yeah … I wasn't. Didn't even think anything of it. It's weird, I didn't even remember until now … in this tight space, so claustrophobic," I swallowed and prattled on, "there's not a lot of room, you see … and, it's dark, and cramped, and I can't move, and … well, uh, um, hmm … you were kinda rough—not that that's bad! Not that you can't ever be like that! But just, ah, right now, right here, it reminded me of … _him._" I was speaking with my hands a lot, which I didn't normally do. Then, I paused. _Shit_. I'm a terrible person. I squeaked, "It wasn't your fault, Eric. No, oh my God, no. I didn't mean to—"

"No, you're right. You can say it. You should. It was my fault," he said quietly, dropping his gaze and starting to take his arms away from me so he could step away. My hands shot out so quickly to stop him, I accidentally banged my elbow on the soap dispenser. Eric raised his eyes to look at me, but he did stop.

"No, listen to me, Eric," I urged, "it was just … a mixture of things. It's just … I don't know … I don't even know what to do about this," I said, feeling so hopeless. "I'm sorry."

Eric stared at me. "_You're _sorry? No. Don't be. _I'm_ the one who should be sorry. I didn't even consider it, the size of the bathroom, and the roughness …." He ran his hands up and down my arms comfortingly, staring pleadingly into my eyes the whole time. "And I'm sorry that we're both apologizing for something that we didn't do, and the person who should be apologizing can't. But it's better that he's dead, even if it wasn't by my hand."

"Yeah," I said pragmatically, "or mine." Eric nodded, but that was the only movement either of us did for a long while. Finally, I said, "So what do we do now?"

"We do what you want to do," he replied simply, quickly.

"Um … I kinda want to go back to the seats now," I admitted. "Sorry."

He shook his head. "Stop apologizing."

I blushed. "Sorry." _Oops_.

Eric didn't look amused, and his look told me as much. "The next time you apologize about this, I'll …." He stopped and looked around, trying to think of an appropriate punishment. "I'll tell Pam you want her to give you a make-over." He sounded pleased with himself for coming up with that punishment.

"Deal," I said, laughing.

Eric smiled when he saw mine. He let go of me and held out a hand to help me down. I accepted, saying, "I, ah, need a human moment here," and gesturing to the toilet.

He stared at me for a second before he understood. The moments seemed to drag on before he bought it. After squeezing my hand, he opened the door. I had already turned around to look at myself in the mirror, but I saw his reflection stare at me for a few seconds before the door closed.

Eric thought my "human moment" was to go to the bathroom. He was wrong. I stayed where I was in my position in front of the mirror, hands gripping the counter I had just been sitting on.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. What is __**wrong **__with me? What just happened? Fuck. Will that happen again? God, I hope not. What do I do? What am I supposed to do? Oh, why did this happen to me—to me and Eric? How am I supposed to move on from this? How are we supposed to move on from this?_

I closed my eyes and sighed deeply, inhaling and exhaling like I was about to give birth … like that would calm me down and stop those awful questions from running through my brain.

After a few moments I walked over and flushed the toilet, even though I hadn't used it. I splashed some water on my face and, straightening my posture, confidently walked out of the bathroom and into my seat.

Eric had managed to find me a pillow and a blanket—but really nice ones, like a comfy-looking pillow and a black cashmere throw blanket—and they were waiting for me on my chair. As I approached him, he stood up to let me through, his eyes on me ever since the bathroom door opened.

I thanked him and he nodded distractedly in response, still watching me. "Can I kiss you?" was all he said, though he waited a couple seconds to ask.

Instead of replying, I brought my hand to the back of his head, pulling him in for a kiss that was as sweet and addictive as candy.

Afterwards, I started getting ready for sleep, opening up the blanket and fluffing the pillow. I set the pillow against the window, figuring I'd just lean against it, but Eric was having none of that. He moved the armrest so it was upright all the way between the seats, out of our way, and gestured to his shoulder. I set the pillow against him and fell asleep with his arm around my shoulder.

When I woke up, Eric's arm was still around me, but he was on his laptop. Now, I don't have a computer and rarely even use one, but if even I know it's annoying and unnecessary to type with one hand, then it must be true. But, that's what Eric was doing, poking the keyboard just so he could protect me, be as close to me as possible, while I slept.

I looked at Eric and simply thought, _'I love him.'_

Love came back to me through the bond, and I quickly looked up to see Eric's smiling face. Grinning lazily, moving my head so I could kiss his shoulder and pushed love at him, something I hadn't even realized I was doing a couple seconds before. "I love you, you know."

"I love you too," he said back to me.

I wiggled into a comfier position. But I stopped when Eric's smile slowly grew into a frown. "What?" I asked, looking up at him.

"As much as this will ruin the atmosphere, I have to tell you something. Good news or bad news first?"

_Awh, hell. _

"I don't like that you keeping having to say that," I mumbled. Eric nodded in agreement with me. "But give me the bad."

"They haven't found out who killed that Lafayette Reynolds," he said, and I closed my eyes. Shit. I completely forgot about Lafayette's murder. I _am_ a terrible person. I wasn't even there for the funeral—and I didn't even think about it.

After a moment, he added, "So there's still a killer in Bon Temps."

"Yeah, I know. It's awful," I said, not quite getting what he was saying. Hey, I had just woken up. But I did realize it eventually, sitting up straight as I flatly said, "You don't want me to stay there."

"Correct." Pause. "I want you to stay at my house." He peered over at me, anxious to see what my reaction was.

"For tonight."

"For as long as there is a murderer on the loose," he corrected.

"What about my job, Eric? Or my house?" I asked, my voice going up more than it should when you ask a question. "I mean, this murder wasn't geared towards fangbangers or people who associate with vampires."

"We don't know that," he immediately pointed out.

I stifled an eye-roll. "Whatever. You didn't answer my questions. What about my job, and my house? My brother? Hell, I don't even think I told Jason I was going to Dallas."

"You don't have to work for the shifter," Eric said, and I gave him my best evil-eye. I knew what he thought of my job, just like he knew what I thought of his opinion of it.

"We're not having that conversation right now," I replied tightly. "And I'm not going to drop everything and just sit on my thumbs at your house all by myself during the day just because someone I knew and loved was murdered."

"You wouldn't have to sit on your thumbs at my house. I do have chairs and beds and couches," Eric said, almost defensively.

I couldn't help but weaken at that. "I know, silly, but that's not the point."

He stared past me, out the window, and then his gaze settled back on me. "It's late. I don't have the time or available resources to arrange for bodyguards for you during the day. You will sleep over at my house tonight and stay there during the day. You only took a thirty-minute nap, so I'm assuming you'll sleep during most of the day anyway. If not, my house has televisions and computers and books and my day man, who will do whatever you want him to do as long as you stay in the house. When night comes, there will be protection for you and you can return to Bon Temps and go about your normal life, even during the day."

While he was saying all of that I was nodding my agreement. I hated to admit it, but that sounded fair. "Okay."

"However, that doesn't mean you can't stay over at my house and spend the night." He paused, his eyes looking down before looking over at me. "I would like it if you spent the night at my house like I spend the night at your house."

I swallowed, suddenly overcome with emotion at Eric's honesty, his ability to throw everything on the table like people always want to do but never actually do. "I would like that too," I managed to say at last.

"I should tell you, I know I will have to be at Fangtasia tomorrow night, all night. I've missed too many nights not to," Eric continued. "Of course, you are welcome to join me and keep me company there, just like you are welcome to return to Bon Temps tomorrow and do what you normally do."

"It's not that I don't want to stay over your house, Eric," I said, trying to convince the straight line of his mouth and the furrowed brow. "It's just … I don't know, I don't want to stay over there for the wrong reasons. You know what I mean?"

It took a couple seconds, but he finally accepted it, nodding.

"I mean it!" I said, hitting his arm playfully because he still looked so serious. "I'll even show you!"

"How?" Eric replied dubiously, scrunching up his nose as he tried to plot out my next move.

"Like this," I replied, leaning over and giving him a kiss. He wasn't expecting it, but he definitely didn't reject it.

"I believe you now," he murmured onto my lips before kissing me again.

...

**A/N: Still working on chapter 53 and haven't sent it to my beta yet, but I promise you the waiting won't take as long. Like, pinky promise. **


	53. Chapter 53

**A/N: Hey guys ... I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated. It's embarassing, really. And if I were to write out every little excuse or reason I could come up with a couple chapters of my own life, and I know you guys want to read this update so I won't do that to you. Just know that I'll try my best not to let it happen again for this amount of time. **

**And as always ... thanks to chiisai-kitty for being my beta and my friend. And thanks to Charlaine Harris for her characters.**

...

Eric found little ways to touch me the rest of the flight and all the way to the house—holding a hand out for me to help me out of my seat, placing a hand on the small of my back as we walked through the airfield to the limo (and I checked out the driver—no Fellowship of the Sun flunky here), and alternating between holding my hand or putting a hand on my thigh on the way to his home. At first, I thought it was to show he was with me, and wasn't upset about the little bathroom freakout—I think that scared the both of us more than we wanted to let on.

But once we turned into his gated neighborhood (there was a security guard that waved us in and everything), I wryly wondered if the hand protection was to keep me from jumping out of my seat to try and guess which house was Eric's.

"You know what?" I asked Eric, looking out the window.

"What?" he answered, smiling a little in anticipation.

"I feel like my house would be a better vampire house than any of the actual vampire houses I've seen."

It was true. There were children playing on the sidewalk in Eric's development—probably, during the day; I could see various balls and hula hoops lying forgotten on lawns. Pam's house looked like Martha Stewart lived there. Stan's house was in a normal neighborhood. Me, I lived in a 200-year-old ramshackle house next to a graveyard, and it's only accessible by a dirt road. Go figure.

"Interesting theory."

Just then, the car turned into a driveway, and I tore myself away from Eric's gaze and scooted over the window, not even caring about the slight farting noise the movement made.

"See? Not a vampire house," I said, and it was true.

Sure, Eric's house—mansion, really—was bigger than the other houses, and had a longer driveway that went up a hill, so his house was a little more removed from the neighborhood, but it did look like a normal house—not one you'd be hesitant to trick-or-treat at on Halloween.

For much of the car ride, Eric had been talking about the various houses he owned—the cottage in northern Sweden, in the area where he thought he lived in when he was a human; the penthouse in London that he bought for Pam but she never used; the castle in rural Vienna; the apartment building in Tokyo. And all of those seemed easy to imagine—I thought of a stone fence and wooden walls for the cottage, the general run-of-the-mill castle with Rapunzel towers for the castle, and swanky buildings with shiny windows for the apartment and penthouse. But his house in Shreveport sounded so … normal I didn't know what to think of it.

Now I was kind of glad I didn't try and guess what his house looked like, because anything I would have come up with in my imagination would have been surpassed by reality. Although he'd probably frown at my adjective, I thought Eric's house was _gorgeous_. It was beautiful, and brick, and big … at least, from what I could see and think of it at, like, four in the morning. I mean, I could see _columns_, for Chrissake! And the path to his front door was lit up too!

Let's just say I would have bet big bucks Eric had those secret speakers that look like rocks.

I was mooning over his house when Eric was getting our luggage out, and when the limo drove away and left me and Eric in the driveway and I was still mooning over his house, Eric just chuckled.

"I told you, you should have come over earlier," he chided, picking up both of our bags and gesturing to the pathway leading to the front door.

I discreetly looked around for those speaker-rocks, but couldn't find any. Now, anyways. "Yeah, yeah," was all I could think of for my witty comeback.

"You'll like the inside then, I think," he said mysteriously before typing some keys on the keypad mounted next to the door.

As always, Eric was right. _Son of a bitch._

When he opened the door, I gaped. The interior of the house was so richly decorated I dazedly wondered if Pam had decorated it for Eric. But, as I looked around the house, I realized this definitely looked like the quintessential bachelor pad, even if it was inside the quintessential family house. There was a widescreen TV in the living room, which was to my left from where I was standing in the doorway, along with a chocolate brown leather chairs and a matching couch, a huge mahogany shelf filled with DVDs, and—get this—a _bear rug_, right in front of the big brick fireplace.

The rest of the house was the same—the rooms were painted in lush, warm colors (forest green, cream, maroon, with wooden paneling and floors) and minimally decorated, but with just the right stuff to show that is was decorated with taste, and money. Every electronic device in Eric's house was state-of-the-art—even the appliances in his kitchen looked brand spankin' new … and also like they'd never been used.

Eric saw me looking at them and asked, "Those are correct, yes? I had my day man purchase them, and he assured me they were right."

I turned to look at him—he was leaning against the doorframe behind me, watching me look at the stove and the washer and even the coffee machine, the same crappy one I had at home—and smiled. "Yes, Eric, they're right."

He smiled lazily, proudly. "Good."

I smiled back at him before going back to my wide-eyed assessing of the room. Once my eyes landed on the refrigerator, I joked, "Want me to check the food too?"

Instead of replying, Eric walked past me and opened the door, stepping aside to let me inspect. He had rows and rows of True Bloods, milk, eggs, butter, and the generic grocery store brands of lemonade and iced tea; although I didn't open any of the shelves, I could see things in them through the glass, so I guessed he had fruit or vegetables or meat too.

I picked up the milk and brought it to my face, biting my lip as I studied it. The expiration date was in two days, so there was a good chance the milk had been brought to the house sometime before today. I wondered how long ago Eric—or, more likely and honestly, his day man—had bought the milk.

_How long had Eric been waiting to show me his fridge?_

"What?" he said anxiously, not missing the biting of my lip or the forehead crinkles I knew appeared when I furrowed my brows. "What's wrong? That milk is from a cow, yes?"

He sounded so concerned I had to laugh. "Yes. And everything's right, Eric. Thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Oh," he said, and he sounded a tiny bit relieved. I put the milk back in its spot, and he closed the door soon afterwards.

"It's close to dawn," he said, looking out the window. I could just barely make out the little sliver of orange behind the trees, but I believed him.

"Oh. Good. I'm pooped out," I replied, putting a hand over my mouth as I yawned loudly.

Eric turned to stare at me, so bug-eyed it was comical. "_Pooped out?_"

I burst out laughing mid-yawn, something I had never done before. Then again, I don't think I ever managed to confuse or, to be honest, gross out a vampire before I told Eric I was "pooped out."

Once I was able to speak—and breathe—normally, I explained, "Oh my God, Eric, it's just an expression. It means I'm exhausted."

"I see." He waited a beat, then added, "But, _pooped out_?"

I giggled, nodding my head.

He shook his head and dismissively muttered, "And I wonder why I don't understand the human vernacular …." After a moment, he shook himself out of it. "Ready to continue the tour?

"Yep. And, I can carry my bag," I offered as I watched Eric bend down to pick up both of our bags.

"It is nothing. Come," he said, cocking his head for me to follow. He showed me his work offices—one for his businesses, and one for his sheriff duties—and his library, which was the size of Bon Temps' library, except it had a bigger and better selection of books.

I spent at least a half hour combing the shelves, mentally picking out books I knew I would have fun reading during the days I knew I would be spending here soon, on my own terms. Not because there was a killer in Bon Temps and I should spend the night at Eric's house … but because I should spend the night at Eric's house just because.

Once I was finished with my inspection of the library, and Eric stopped beaming, he led me to a hallway I hadn't been down before; we both started walking down it.

After a couple steps he stopped directly in front of a painting and stared at it like he'd never seen it before. Huh. Weird.

Right when I was about to ask what he was doing, the entire wall started moving—a trap door … er, trap wall. It was like Eric was too good for just the painting to swing open and reveal a hidden passageway—he had to have the whole wall move to reveal a hidden passageway.

"Oh, so is this your evil vampire lair?" I joked.

Eric barked out a laugh, then replied, "It's my lair, yes, but this particular one isn't evil."

I laughed, secretly wondering if he was kidding.

For what it's worth, "this particular one" wasn't evil looking at all. It was just as neat and nicely furnished as the upstairs—and I'd expect it to be, since this was Eric's resting area. There was a spacious four-corner bed with soft-looking off-white sheets and a blood-red comforter, this was Eric. Resting on the bed were pillows of every shape and size, but all in red or gold. There was a door opened just enough to reveal a white tiled floor—bathroom, probably—and there was an even bigger wide-screen TV down here, along with an ornate wooden desk set.

It made me feel crappy knowing Eric usually stayed here, in this palace of a resting place, for the day, yet he had been spending most of that time squeezed in a claustrophobic wooden box under my closet.

"Do you like it?" he asked after he dropped the bags on the floor.

"Love it," I replied, looking around still.

"Good," he said, obviously satisfied. "We'll sleep here, and I'll write down the numerical code for you to go upstairs, and keep the wall open—the painting only opens when it scans my eyes, or Pam's eyes, but I'll program it to open for your retinal scan too, tomorrow."

"Sounds good." I yawned again, and Eric smiled sympathetically.

"Tired?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

He handed me my bag, and I took it, placing it on the floor so I could take out my PJs. Eric watched me for a second before he moved his bag over next to the chest of drawers. After that, he nonchalantly began taking off his clothes until he was just in his black silk boxers—and by that time I was just in my tee shirt and undies.

Without saying a word, Eric went over to the bed and got in on the same side he slept on in the bed at my house, and in the bed at the hotel—forever his side of the bed, in my opinion. I got in mine, and laid on my side, putting Eric's arms around me so he was spooning me from behind.

"I'm glad you came here," he whispered, his chin cradled on my shoulder so he could kiss me on the cheek.

"Me too. I should have been here earlier," I replied, turning my head in a slightly uncomfortable angle so I could kiss him on the lips.

"I couldn't agree more," was his simple response.

I know he didn't mean to, but I felt like an ass. Why had I resisted this so much?

"I'm sorry," I whispered, resting my chin on his chest.

"You're here now. That's all that matters."

Eric was always right.

…

**Chapter 54 is written, so it will probably be up in a couple days as an I'm-sorry offering!**


	54. Chapter 54

**A/N: To all of you who celebrate Christmas, hope everything was good! And to all of you currently snowed in or in the process of being snowed in, hope this helps!**

**It's been a while, but you guys should know by now—thanks to chiisai-kitty for beta-ing this and CH for inspiring me. **

…

After a long, uninterrupted sleep, I woke up around three o'clock in the afternoon, even though it still looked as dark as it did when I went to bed. I really, really had to go to the bathroom, but there wasn't an actual toilet in Eric's downstairs bathroom.

Shifting my weight, I went back into the bedroom and picked up the piece of paper with the number-password for me to go upstairs. I seriously hoped there actually was a toilet in the upstairs bathroom … if there even was an upstairs bathroom. I didn't remember that on the tour.

_Shit._ I really didn't want to call Eric's day man and ask him to drive me to a gas station to go to the bathroom.

Once I punched the numbers in and the wall slid open—still being every bit as cool as it was last night—I meandered through the hallways, opening all of the doors I didn't remember opening yesterday. Some of the doors were locked, which made me wonder what was in them. But, I forgot all about that once I found the bathroom and it had a toilet, _thank goodness._

That taken care of, I started on my next task—finding a phone so I could get in touch with Sam. I still needed a replacement one since Hugo had broken my phone in the Fellowship basement, but neither Eric nor I had the time to go about ordering one. I couldn't believe the Fellowship was like two days ago. It felt like it happened two years ago, to me.

Sam picked up on the third ring. "Merlotte's."

"Hi, Sam, it's me, Sookie," I said.

"Sookie, hey. Everything okay? I heard about what happened in Dallas and was worrying myself sick wondering if you were involved."

I tried to decide the best way to tell Sam that yes, I was involved … in everything that had happened in Dallas. But before I could choose, Sam took the leap and added, "Oh, boy. You were, weren't you?"

"Um … you could say that." And then I told him everything that happened, all the while waiting for his reprimanding. Even though there was a fair bit of it, mostly about being bait for those fucking vampires at the church, Sam seemed really impressed with Eric, although it was very begrudgingly. He just couldn't believe Eric willingly went into an anti-vampire church to save me—and something told me Eric had moved up a couple notches in Sam's book.

"So, yeah. I'm back now—in Louisiana, anyways. I'm in Shreveport, but I'll make my way back to Bon Temps sometime later tonight. I just wanted to call to let you know I'm free to work whenever," I said, wanting to change topics.

"Oh, good," Sam breathed, "I still haven't found a decent cook to replace Lafayette, so it's been a little hectic here. How does the night shift sound tonight, say seven-ish since it's a weekday, and we can figure things out from there?"

Huh. Seven. Not that much time for me and Eric tonight. But, Sam wouldn't have asked me if he didn't need me. And I was planning on going to Bon Temps tonight anyway, except now it was just a lot earlier than I'd thought. "Sure, sure. Listen, Sam, about Lafayette …" I began.

Sam cut me off. "Sookie, if this is about Eric being worried about your safety here, it's covered. There's a shot-gun behind the bar and in my office and I installed a new security system and—"

"Oh, no, I wasn't going to say anything about that. Well, the security system sounds good and all, but what I was going to say was, do they know who killed him yet?"

"No, not a clue. There haven't been any charges brought up against Andy, even though it was his car and all. But he still is on indefinite suspension and isn't allowed to help with any investigation, let alone the one concerning him. It's not even a paid leave or anything, but that hasn't stopped him from coming into Merlotte's every afternoon and getting so hammered I've had to call his sister Portia to pick him up every single night. He's taking it really rough, and the whispers and looks people are giving when he's nearby really ain't helping."

"Ohh," I said knowingly. Andy and I were nowhere near bosom buddies, especially with the way he'd been leading the serial killer investigation, but that was terrible. If anyone knew how much it hurt to have people give you weird looks and say cruel things about you behind your back it was me, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even Andy.

Sam continued, "Actually, the biggest rumor is that there was this sex club thing Lafayette was a member of, and I guess he mentioned to some of the people he dealt to—Lafayette was a drug dealer, they found out."

"Oh, no," I said, wincing a little. I knew Lafayette was fond of his little marijuana cigarettes—he often said Mary Jane was the only woman he could ever love—but I didn't know he was a dealer.

"Yeah. He had a ton of pills and weed and, get this, V laying all over his house. Once the police found his little black book of clients, they started getting a lot of new information, mostly about dealing but a little about the sex club their dealer would brag to them about. Cops think it's kinda like Fight Club and ya ain't supposed to talk about it, but Lafayette did and whoever's in this sex club found out."

Wow. Not only was Lafayette a drug dealer, but he was a drug dealer who sold V. But, as Eric and unfortunate experience had told me, vampires are opportunistic killers—if they want to kill someone, they're just going to go ahead and get a free meal while they're at it. And the police knew this too, for the same reasons why I knew this.

"I just … I mean, this is Bon Temps, y'know? I wonder who else was in this sex club."

"No kidding," Sam said darkly.

After that we switched to lighter fare, talking about Lafayette's replacement and other little things that happened at the bar. Sam mentioned that Jason had been looking for me, as had Mike Spencer, the director of the funeral home and the local coroner, of all people.

"_Mike Spencer_?" I asked, just to make sure. I had no idea what he'd want to talk to me about.

"Yeah, like three times," Sam said, laughing a little. I just knew he was running a hand through his red-gold hair, like he always did when he felt guilty about finding something funny. "And when I asked if I could pass on a message or something, he just smiled creepily and said it was something he had to ask you in person."

"Ugh. That's so weird," I said, rolling my eyes. "Moving on. What'd Jason want?"

"Oh, I think it was just because you weren't here. It didn't seem that important. And I might be out of place in telling you this, but you should give him a call."

"Alright, I think I'm gonna go do that now. Thanks for all the updates, Sam, and I'll be seeing you tonight."

"Yep. See ya then."

As soon as I hung up the phone, I called Jason. "'Sup," was how he answered the phone.

"Hey Jase, it's Sook," I said, wondering if that was how he normally took calls, since I was calling from a number that wasn't my house phone or my cell phone.

"Oh, hey Sook. Where've ya been? I went to Merlotte's the other night and you weren't workin'."

Not really wanting to have to explain myself a second time—and to a more hostile, judgmental audience—I merely said, "Eh, just needed to take a coupla days off."

"Nice. How's Eric? Did he see that tackle the quarterback for the Saints got hit with couple days ago? He's out for the rest of the season because of it."

I smiled at Jason's endearing childishness. "Uh, I don't know. I'll have to ask."

"Oh, man, it was awesome," Jason began, and then he gave me a two-minute recap of this two-second play. I paced the floor, trying to get him to stop while he was talking about the flags given in the game, but there was no use.

"Great. Now, uh, Jason, I was wondering if you heard anything about Lafayette's murder?" I asked, getting right to the point.

Jason knew all the town gossip, though I didn't know if it was because of his job or the local girls he bedded. But I knew he'd have more information than Sam, even though Sam did own the only bar in town.

"Just the sex club stuff," he replied, "so is that what you mean?"

"Well, yeah. What do you think about it?" I asked.

"I think if anyone was forming a sex club around Bon Temps, they woulda called me," he said, completely serious and sounding just a little bit wounded.

_Wait a second._ "You're right," I said, struck by how sensible Jason could be when you least expected him to be. "Yeah. Geeze, Jason, you'd be number one on the list."

Jesus Christ on a cracker, why hadn't I thought of that before? Not only did Jason have a reputation as a guy who'd heated up many a bed, he was both very attractive and unmarried. Girls were in love with him and guys loved him. Granted, most likely to get invited to a sex club wasn't the best superlative to win, but he really was the perfect candidate.

"Damn straight," Jason said, sounding proud.

"The only thing I can think of," I said slowly, "is that Lafayette was gay. And maybe this club, if it exists, only accepts people who are all right with that."

Wow. Jason was two for two today. "D'you think you have to be gay to get acceptance in this club?"

"I dunno. Why you ask?"

I winced at my slip-up and quickly answered, "No reason."

But, I did have a reason. I wanted to use my abilities to find Lafayette's murderer, and my best bet would be to wrangle an invite to this sex club thing. Although now I wasn't so sure if I'd be able to do it. Even though Jason was straight, he was Bon Temp's biggest catch, so, like he said, if anyone was to get an invite, it'd be him. But if Jason couldn't get an invite, then I totally couldn't.

_But could Eric?_

As I thought more about it, Jason was telling me more about how the Saints were shaping up and other stuff before I said my goodbye—something he let me do only after I promised to ask Eric if he saw that stupid tackle.

…

Bobby Burnham interrupted the reading I was doing after my phone call with Jason; all of a sudden, when I was reading Mr. Darcy's pretentious dismissal of Elizabeth Bennett at the first ball, I heard the sound of the door opening, and the weary brain of someone hoping he did everything Mr. Northman told him to do.

Even though I guessed it was Eric's day man—because that wasn't something a robber would think—I still marked my place in the book and skidded over to the lobby, where Bobby Burnham was closing the door with his foot while balancing multiple bags and boxes.

"Hi, there. Let me help you with that, sir," I said kindly, reaching for the handles of the shopping bags he was carrying. I recognized some of the labels from the local grocery store and the Best Buy.

"Thank you," he replied, begrudgingly, and surprisingly, thinking that for the first human ever to spend the day in Eric's house, Eric certainly made a good choice. He _really _liked that I called him sir.

My smile got stupid big upon hearing that, but as tempted as I was to read more, I put up my shields and let him pass me—he had a better grasp of the layout of the house, after all. And if I could sense that much dedication and respect for Eric in those few short seconds, then I didn't need to check his mind for anything more, because that was all that mattered to me.

Bobby led me to the kitchen and put all the bags on the counter, so I followed suit. After thanking me again, he sorted the bags into two piles. The one closest to me contained the Best Buy bags and grocery bags. The other pile also had Best Buy bags, as well as plain white non-labeled plastic bags. "These are for matters concerning you and Mr. Northman, I'm told," he said, nonchalantly pointing to the one closest to me. I nodded to show I understood, and he continued, "The others are for work-related, for Fangtasia, so those go in his study. But feel free to look through yours."

I looked at the clock—a little past five. Whatever was in the grocery bag was definitely for me, so I decided I would deal with those, and just wait until Eric woke up to go through the Best Buy ones. He'd have a better idea what to do with those technology bags, just like I'd have a better idea what to do with the grocery bags.

I did—it seemed as though Eric had ordered Bobby to buy frozen meals and fixings for coffee, along with a couple of odds and ends, like a brush and elastics and iron supplements. I put the grocery items in their places, and looked around in the cupboards just to see what else Eric had. There was a set of dishes and some cups and mugs and some silverware, along with canned goods—soup and fruit—and other non-refrigerated items, like cereal.

When Bobby returned, I didn't need to read his mind to know he was surprised I'd put away the items. He thanked me for doing it, to which I replied it was no big deal. After a couple moments, he spoke up to ask if there was anything else I required, and there really wasn't. In fact, I was kinda itching to go back to reading, and once I managed to convince Bobby that he could go, he did.

Eric woke up not too soon afterwards, finding me in the library lounging on a chair. He was wearing black silk boxers and socks and never looked sexier. Or sounded sexier when he said, "Good evening," in as much of a scratchy-sleepy voice a vampire can have.

I closed the book and set it on the table before starting to get up, but Eric was in front of me in an instant saying, "Don't."

When I remained still but looked questionably at Eric, he shrugged and explained, "I like seeing you in my favorite chair."

I looked down at the chair—rustic brown leather that looked as well-worn and old as his fabric-bound copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ I was reading. The chair was pretty much everything the Fangtasia throne wasn't: warm, soft, inviting. I liked that it was still his favorite chair.

"Were you able to find everything today?" Eric inquired as soon as we were both comfortable, me sitting on his lap, his arms folded around my stomach with his hands resting in my lap. He had taken one look at the cover and smiled a little, only saying it was appropriate before changing the subject.

"Yeah, listen, Eric …" I said, and then filled him in with the local Bon Temps gossip I knew he'd never be interested in if it wasn't about me. But, I didn't tell him about the little party I was invited to, or the little plan I was formulating in my head about that. Don't get me wrong, I would, but just … not now. If I did now, I knew there would be no way I'd be going back to Bon Temps.

"Your work begins at seven tonight?" Eric asked once I finished. Of course he'd pick up on that.

"Yeah. So I need to be leaving here … soonish, since I need to go home first," I said, a little reluctantly.

"I'll drive you," he said.

"Okay." Neither of us moved.

"You said Jason asked if I saw the Saints tackle?" Eric said randomly, out of the silence that had gathered since I last spoke. He sounded pleased, and when I turned my head a little I could see that he looked as pleased as he sounded.

"Yeah. Seems like you two have quite the bromance going on," I laughed, especially when Eric gleefully proclaimed he actually knew what that meant.

After making sure I had had enough to eat during the day—and making a special point to ask if there was anything I needed, foodwise—Eric said we should probably leave if I were to have enough time before my work, and he before his. While he went to the office to check on the other packages and bags Bobby had brought, I went downstairs to pack. I left a couple undies, bras, and PJs (including the new lingerie I hadn't used) in an empty shelf in one of his chest of drawers.

Eric came downstairs as I was doing that; it seemed like as soon as he understood what I was doing, he purposefully walked over to stand next to me, his beaming practically contagious.

"Sorry, I should have asked first. Is it okay if I do this?" I asked, pausing to look over at him.

"Of course."

"Good." After smiling at each other, I went back to putting my stuff in the drawer, and Eric went back to watching me, still beaming.

"This is for you," he said, unceremoniously thrusting a Best Buy bag at me once I was done.

I took the bag, a little suspiciously, and hesitantly reached my hand into it, finally pulling out a small, square box with a picture of a cell phone on it, the same cell phone I'd had that Hugo destroyed in Dallas.

"It's a replacement," Eric explained, confirming my thoughts.

"So it is. Thank you," I replied, "and I really needed a new one, too." Beaming at him, I set it down on the top of the drawers. I could tell that Eric had been expecting a little financial fight, and was relieved it didn't happen.

Caught up in the moment, I leaned over and kissed him; though kissing Eric was always a good time, it felt even better now, now that I had clothes in his house. Goodness knows he'd had clothes in my house since day one, but it was nice knowing we were on the same footing on that front.

…

Thirty minutes later I was back in Bon Temps, and it looked exactly the same. I was the only thing that seemed different, I thought to myself.

Once we were home, Eric helped himself to a True Blood and curiously watched me while I flitted from room to room, checking the timers on the lights and opening a couple windows and other menial tasks you do once you come back from vacation. When I was dressed for work and ready to go, then we went outside, but only made it to the top of the porch stairs. Neither of us wanted to leave just yet, even though we needed to.

"I think with my late shift and all, it'd probably be easier just for me to spend the night here," I said, squinting up at the night sky.

Eric paused before agreeing with me. "And what of tomorrow?"

"Um, well, I was thinking I'd ask to take the day shift tomorrow, so that tomorrow night I can be with you at Fangtasia and then, if it's not an inconvenience, sleep over at your place."

From the corner of my eye I could see Eric trying not to smile, and it wasn't too long before I was doing the same.

"Of course it's not an inconvenience. You should know that by now," he replied.

We shared another grin, and then another kiss—but the sweet, tender ones that somehow seem more intimate and harder than just sticking your tongue down someone else's throats.

"Good night, Sookie Stackhouse," Eric called out flirtatiously as we walked to our respective cars.

"Good night, Eric Northman," I said right back, winking because I knew he'd be able to see it even in the darkness of the night. A slight chuckle told me yes, he had.

I followed him out to the main road before we went our separate ways, all the while noticing that it seemed like Eric was driving much more slowly than usual tonight, even paying attention to a stop sign, if only to pause at it, so he'd be closer to me longer. And out of all of the gestures and gifts he had given to me tonight, this was the one thing that made me love him even more.

…


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N: Merry New Years Eve to all! Here's the next chapter to jump-start your festivities.**

**Thanks, as always, to my two C's: chiisai-kitty and Charlaine Harris. **

**...**

Work at Merlotte's was as busy and chaotic as it ever was, especially when good old Mike Spencer walked in around ten o'clock, taking extra care to take a seat in my section. He was wearing his usual black cowboy boots, acid-washed jeans, and polo shirt, but his face lit up when he saw I was working.

"Hiya, Sookie," he said as soon as I came over, which was pretty soon because I made a beeline for him once he was seated. I had absolutely no idea why he'd need to talk to me so urgently, and so secretly, and it was bugging me.

"Hi, Mr. Spencer," I said politely. Even though I thought of him as 'Mike Spencer' in my head, he was the town coroner and owner of Bon Temp's only funeral home and on top of that was twenty years older than me, so I gave him the respect I'd give to any elder.

"I've been meanin' ter talk to ya," he replied as I sat down his table settings.

"Yeah, I heard. What for?"

He looked around suspiciously, to see who else was watching, and it didn't escape my notice. "Sookie, some of us, like your friend Tara and her beau Eggs, have been partying it up at Jan Fowler's lake house these past coupla weeks, and, well, we were wondering if we could get you to come with us this Friday night," he whispered, grinning crookedly up at me as I tried not to breathe in his bad breath.

Oh my God. He was talking about the sex club. I mean, this wasn't some regular poker night old Mike was inviting me to. No sirree, Mike was inviting me to some orgy—a regular occurrence with him and these friends of his and Tara (_Tara!) _and this Eggs, whoever he was—that looked like it could be called a sex club. As in, _the_ sex club. Surely there weren't multiple sex clubs going on in this little backwards town, right? I wasn't that clueless about my hometown, was I?

While I was looking inside his head, he added, "And why don't you call me Mike, Sookie?" I nodded robotically, still peeking in his brain. I didn't see faces clearly, but I did see a lot of bodies. Oh, geez Louise. Ick.

Oblivious, Mike continued, "We wanted to invite you sooner, but then you went and took a week off from work after your vamp boyfriend caught Rene, and then Sam said you'd left town. We'd been meaning to ask you this for a while, actually, but the timing was never right. You understand, dontcha?"

_Jesus Christ. _With what he was thinking about what went on at these parties, I was surprised they were polite enough to think of the timing.

Before this had happened, I had been entertaining the idea of using Eric to get us in—when I thought this was a gay sex club thing. And even now, after I was approached, it seemed he was still our ticket in, albeit unknowingly. Thing was, would he go with me? Not just to a party of people he wouldn't even look at if they came, fully dressed too, to Fangtasia, but to a party of people suspected of killing a friend of mine. I had no idea how he'd react, mostly because I had no idea how I'd react if he was the one to come up to me and ask. But I knew I'd see his reaction later tonight, because I knew I'd have to tell him tonight.

I gulped. "So, what goes on at these parties? Is this just a drinking and dancing type thing?"

"Well, we get a little wild," he admitted, sounding extremely proud of the fact. His mind raced through a couple wild scenarios, and I saw Lafayette for a brief second lying face-down on a bed before Mike thought of two couples in a Jacuzzi. _Holy shit. Holy motherfucking shit. _I wished there was a way to rewind and spend more time looking at someone's thoughts, but it wasn't possible.

I forced myself to at least look somewhat composed as I listened to Mike finish, "We thought since you found yourself a hot piece of vampire ass, you might want to come let your hair down a little. You should bring him too. That'd be the bomb."

"I'll think about it," I said, without enthusiasm. It wouldn't do to look eager. That would probably make Mike say something even more incredibly out-dated.

"We'd like for both of you to come," he leered. "It'll be fun."

Shuddering, I composed myself enough to calmly ask, "When?"

"Say, ten o'clock on Friday."

"Okey-dokes. Thanks for the invite," I said, as if remembering my manners, and then asked him if he was ready to order.

When I brought Mike his burger and fries, he didn't say anything else about it. Same for when I brought him his bill, though he gave me a fat tip, winked at me, and said he hoped to see me soon.

From what he was thinking, he hoped to see my naked breasts soon.

I just nodded and plastered my old Crazy Sookie smile on my face. I'd seen enough about the party that Mike hoped to see me at to know there wasn't anything to smile genuinely about.

Especially not when Andy Bellefleur came in and sat at the bar. We weren't the best of friends, so I didn't take it personally when he didn't smile or say hi or even acknowledge that I did both of those to him while passing by to grab a bottle of ketchup. But I could tell something was up. Anyone could just by looking at his slumped shoulders, his furrowed brow, and his down-cast eyes. No one else approached Andy, not even his cousin Terry.

When I asked Sam about it during my break, as we were going over my schedule, he said that Andy had been surly every time he's come in, and people just knew now to let him alone. Course, he added, that might have something to do with the fact that a dead body showed up in his car and no one knew why. Sam then changed the topic and asked me what days I could do, and I didn't bring it up again.

I made sure to take tomorrow night off … and Friday night as well. But I made up for it by doing a lot of day shifts, which no one ever volunteered for since it didn't have as many good tips.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. Customers came and went, food was hot and then cold, and the only constant seemed to be the nagging thoughts I had about this sex party the town coroner gave me an exclusive invite to.

What good could my going serve? Could I really learn anything that would solve the mystery of Lafayette's death? I didn't like Andy Bellefleur much, but it wasn't fair that Andy might be prosecuted, his reputation ruined, for something that wasn't his fault. Something that I _knew _wasn't his fault, no matter what anyone else believed.

I had a nagging suspicion that no one present at a party at the lake house would trust me with any deep dark secrets until I'd become a regular, and I just couldn't stomach that. I wasn't even sure I could get through one gathering, even with Eric at my side. The last thing in the world I wanted to see was my friends and my neighbors "letting their hair down." I didn't want to see them let down their hair, or anything else.

**…**

As soon as my shift was over—and Andy's sister Portia came to take him home—I went right to Fangtasia. I hadn't been planning to, but now I knew I had to. Luckily I always kept a spare sweatshirt in the car, which I threw over my Merlotte's shirt now. Sure, I wasn't looking—or, to be honest—smelling my Fangtasia best, but Eric wouldn't mind. Especially when I told him what made me drive over to see him unannounced at two in the morning.

When I got to Fangtasia, there wasn't that long of a line of fangbangers outside, and Pam wasn't even at the door. I had a split-second of panic when I wondered if Eric was even here, and if I should have called first, but that went away once I felt his presence and then walked inside and saw Eric at his throne. The club wasn't as crowded as it usually was, probably due to the lateness of the hour, which made it easier for Eric to see me before I saw him.

"Sookie, what a nice surprise," Eric said warmly, getting up from his spot and bending down to kiss me as if I hadn't seen him hours before.

After a fair amount of kisses later Eric pulled away. He was wearing a black tank top and jeans, and we kind of matched with our dark clothing and blond hair.

"To what do I owe this visit?" he asked.

I placed my hand on his cheek and gently brought his face down so I could kiss him again. "I have to tell you a secret," I whispered in his ear.

Amusedly tilting his head at me, Eric led us over to our booth. We slid into our seats then, and before I could even place my clutch on the table a waitress was over with our drinks, my customary gin and tonic and Eric's True Blood.

I was nervous, playing with my hands and looking around at the interior that I'd already memorized. I wasn't sure of the right way to bring up what I was about to bring up. But as I watched Eric bring the bottle to his lips, I thought, _'Fuck it. Just ask him already_.' And just like that, any prewritten speech I had introducing the sex party and my—our—future involvement went out the window. Fuck it, indeed.

"Eric, I need you to escort me to an orgy," I said, as calmly and casually as if I was discussing the weather.

Sputtering, he spit out the blood he had been sipping. It was the most human gesture I'd ever seen him do.

Looking around to see who noticed (which I didn't think was anyone, since we were in a pretty secluded area and Eric wasn't even facing the crowd), he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Did you just ask me to take you to an orgy?" he asked, clearly dumbfounded.

I blushed and looked down at the tabletop. "Uh … yeah. I did."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. And then he cleared his throat before asking, in a curiously wounded voice, "How did you come to hear of an orgy that I didn't even know about?"

Now it was my turn to spit my drink across the table, though it was done because of laughter, not shock.

Once I stopped, he said, "But, I mean it."

I was about to respond when Pam sauntered up to our table, carrying a handful of red napkins. "You two are _truly _meant for each other," she said dryly, obviously staring down at Eric's True Blood drops and my gin and tonic drops on the table.

Ignoring her jab, Eric turned to her and conversationally said, "Pam, Sookie here just asked me to take her to an orgy."

Pam laughed for a couple seconds, and then her jaw dropped when neither Eric nor I joined in. Astonished, she turned to look at me for confirmation. "Sookie?"

Embarassed by her close scruitny, I mumbled, "Yeah."

She exchanged a look with Eric, who was already shaking his head when she excitedly asked, "Can I come?"

"Absolutely not," Eric said immediately, before I even had the chance to look at him.

"Why not?" she pouted. "I deserve a reward, after all the work I've had to do for you while you went to New York City and were on TV and then went to Dallas to have hotel sex with Sookie."

"Doing the employee schedule and picking out merchandise for the store for two weeks deserves a drop of fairy blood _at best_, and certainly not an orgy with Sookie," Eric argued.

"It could be both," Pam said, smiling wolfishly. "Besides, you know I did much more than that. The bull? Niall? The Loboutins? Eric, please, _the Loboutins_?" She jutted her chin up at Eric and looked down at him as she waited for his response.

Eric exasperatedly ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Pam looked to me instead. "Sookie? It is your orgy, after all," she pleaded. _Pleaded_. Pam. Pam _pleaded_.

I shrugged. "Um, not exactly. It's some local orgy that the town coroner invited me to, and that I guess some of the people in my town go to. Some of them are customers at Merlotte's, actually, so you might have seen them when you were there."

"Oh," she sneered, her excitement visibly leaving her face as disgust took over. "It's a human orgy? In _Bon Temps_? In that case, never mind." And with that, she left just as quickly and unexpectedly as she came. I was half surprised she remembered to leave the napkins on the table.

I grabbed one and started sopping up the mess when Eric remarked, "You handled that much better than I did." I shrugged noncommittally and continued mopping. He put his hand down on the spot right next to the napkin I was holding, forcing me to pay attention to him and what he was saying. "I mean it, Sookie."

"Yeah, I guess," I said, not knowing why he was making such a big deal of it. I crumpled up the soggy mess and asked, "So, what was that all about? The Loboutins and, and Niall and the bull and stuff?"

He waved his hand. "Later. Afterwards. So, why do you want to go to this orgy, and now? You never talk about the town coroner, and if he's the dirty old man I'm thinking about, I don't know why you'd want to go to an orgy to see him. Or why he'd invite you to one."

"I know," I muttered before telling Eric everything I had been waiting to tell him before: the sex club and its possible link to Lafayette's murder, how Andy was getting treated in all of this, and how much I wanted to clear his name and find Lafayette's killer. Like someone who's seen a lot in his lifetime, Eric had taken it all in stride, his poker face never wavering … until I told him I had originally thought it was a gay sex club and had been trying to figure out a way to use Eric to score an invitation. Then his eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"Sorry! I know I didn't ask you about it," I hastily admitted, "but I was going to, I promise!"

Eric shrugged. "That's not what concerns me, although I would have done it for you. No, what concerns me is that a group of people you think murdered your coworker invited you to go to a secluded lake house with them. Even if you hadn't asked me, I would have gone, to protect you."

"Well, I don't think they'll try anything if you're there." Then I thought about what I just said. "Deadly, I mean," I corrected.

"I'll kill them if they do," Eric said, and I knew he wasn't kidding. "And it will be very, very hard not to kill them if they try anything of a different nature with you."

I opted to take a sip of my drink rather than reply to that. Eric barely noticed, he was so lost in his thoughts, staring down at the tabletop.

He picked himself up a couple moments later, drinking some True Blood and asking, "Do you want to know what Pam was talking about earlier?"

I nodded.

"Then we'll have to go to my office," he murmured, "for security purposes, you understand."

We both got up and walked to his office, and once we were inside it I was certain Eric would sit behind his desk, like he often does, and I would sit in the chair across from him; he surprised me by guiding me over to the couch, his hand resting above my ass as it had since the moment we were alone in the employee-only section.

Once we were situated on the couch—my now-bare feet on Eric's lap because he wanted to massage them, which felt heavenly since it'd been a while before I worked a shift as tiresome as tonight's—he cleared his throat and began talking. "As you know, I haven't been at Fangtasia for an unusually long time—the longest since it's opening, actually—and Pam's been taking care of things in my absence. Everything related to you was included in that."

"Like what? She said something about Niall, that fairy prince. What did she mean by that?"

"Niall finally got word of you and the situation you're in, and when he tried to contact me all he got was Pam. But as soon as she told me yesterday I spoke with him over the phone, and we're to meet with him soon. He's going to be on Earth next week to oversee how his earthly affairs are doing, so I told him I'd carry on his request for you two would have dinner together and talk. I imagine you have a lot of questions for him."

_Yeah, like where he normally is if he's not on Earth._ I nodded. "Yes, that sounds good. But why wouldn't you come?"

"To dinner, you mean?" Eric asked.

"Well, yeah," I said, "I know you wouldn't eat, but I'd feel better if you were there."

Eric stopped rubbing my feet for a moment. "Of course. Then I will join you." We shared a smile before Eric continued, "I thought it'd be to our advantage to have this meeting occur before your meeting with the queen."

"My meeting with the queen?" I asked dizzily.

He nodded, reluctantly. "The last time I spoke to her, she wanted to meet with you after I passed in my report detailing our time in Dallas. I haven't had time to do that yet, but she usually likes the reports due a few days afterwards. I imagine you'll be summoned to meet with Sophie-Anne sometime next week as well, hopefully after the meeting with Niall. I don't want you walking in there blind, you see."

"What do you mean?"

"In her infinite wisdom, Sophie-Anne hasn't even attempted to contact Niall, as I just found out. I don't know why, but she should have, especially if she knew you were related to him. Because of her error, we stand at a position to know more than she does, which is always a great position to be in. We might be able to use that to our advantage, though I won't know how until after the dinner with Niall, of course."

"Okay. That makes sense," I agreed. Sherriff Eric had obviously come out to play.

"Does Saturday night work for you?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to have dinner with him?"

_Certainly not Merlotte's. _"No. I don't care."

"Do you care if I make the arrangements?"

"Go for it."

"Good. Now, about the bull and the Loboutins. They're actually related," he said, and I furrowed my brows quizzically at him. He explained, "I asked Pam to make an offering to the maenad, and she and a couple other vampires brought a young bull and vintage wines to the area of the forest where she attacked you. But by doing so, Pam ruined her favorite pair of shoes. Suffice to say, she was not pleased, especially when the maenad made it clear she found our offerings inadequate."

"I bet," I said sympathetically. "So now what are you going to offer her?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted dejectedly. "I'm working on a few things, but I really thought she'd accept the first gifts." He shrugged his shoulders. "I still want to discuss this orgy of yours some more."

Judging from the look on his face, I knew there was a lot he wanted to talk about. "Discuss away," I said, carelessly waving my hand in the air.

"Right. How sure are you that these are the killers? The coroner didn't _think_ anything specifically, did he?"

"Well, not really," I admitted, "but I did see Lafayette's body face-down on a bed. Of course, that could be because of something completely different, but you never know. It's got to be them. It just has to be."

"Perhaps you'll pick up on something when we go to the orgy."

"Just as long as it's not an STD," I muttered.

"You know, if you did get an STD, my blood would probably cure you," Eric said thoughtfully.

I shook my head and tried my best not to grin. "_So _not helping."


	56. Chapter 56

**A/N: Hey there. School's been crazy busy, and most of the time my brain is so pooped out from writing about other people's work that I'm finding it hard to write about my own. But here's the latest chapter, and to everyone that's stuck with this story for over a year now (OVER A YEAR? THAT'S INSANE!) I hope you like it. **

**BIG thank you to my beta chiisai-kitty. Can't believe you've been looking over my work for well over a year too, but it's been great and I can't (and don't want to) imagine it any other way. *long distance hug***

…

Eric had to go back to the floor, and while he did that I went ahead and took a shower in the storage room I was becoming increasingly familiar with. Though the turtleneck I had been wearing the last time I showered here, the night of the maenad attack, was damaged beyond repair, the jeans I had been wearing that same night were clean and completely not stained—which I found out when he took them out of a drawer in his office. I didn't have any clean underwear or a shirt, but Eric fixed that by giving me a thong that said, "Bite Me" on the ass and a promotional True Blood tee shirt in my size. Since I figured I wouldn't actually be going out in the club, I didn't bother putting my bra back on.

When I was done with my shower and found a spare plastic bag to put my dirty Merlotte's uniform in, I went back to Eric's office, but he wasn't there. So I lay down on the couch working on one of his crossword puzzle books he liked, which was how he found me when he walked in two mostly-completed puzzles later.

"Lem," he said, standing behind the couch headrest I was lying my head against, causing me to look up. He saw my startled, and confused expression, and explained, "Three letter word for space module that starts with an 'l;' it's what the scientists first referred to lunar modules as in the beginning of the Space Race."

"Oh. Thank you," I said, checking if he was right (which of course he was).

I saw a little smile on his face before he leaned over and gave me a slow _Spiderman_ upside down kiss, something I'd wanted to try out ever since I saw the movie. Sure, Eric wasn't hanging upside down from a building and it wasn't raining, but Eric was so much better than silly little Tobey Maguire. It took a little while for us to find a rhythm, but once we did it was _amazing_. Somehow sometime later I ended up lying back down again with him on top of me, but all Eric and I did was engage in a hot-and-heavy make out session like we were two teenagers.

Though he was kissing me and his hands were freely roaming up and down my body—especially after he discovered I wasn't wearing a bra—Eric was letting me take the initiative. If I bit his lip, then he would bite mine—but only after I instigated it. If my hands slid up under his shirt or my fingers caressed the inside of the top of his jeans, then he would do the same to me, taking care so his hands didn't stray any farther than mine did. Which, in terms of what could happen, wasn't very far at all.

Though it wasn't publicly acknowledged by either of us, we both knew what he was doing, and why. I was very grateful for the way he was holding himself together with me, and I made sure to tell him that once we stopped.

"This was okay for you?" he asked, still lying on top of me but putting all of his weight on the foot he had rooted on the ground.

"Yeah, it was," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before tracing his jaw line with the same fingers.

"And you would tell me if it wasn't, yes?"

I craned my neck so our faces were on the same level. "Of course."

He leaned forward so our foreheads were pressed together, and we stayed like that, eyes closed, for a couple moments. Afterwards, he pulled back and got off the couch, extending a hand so I could do the same.

"Fangtasia's closed now," he informed me. "The last customer left not two minutes ago."

I nodded my head to show I understood. Sometimes it was unnerving, his vampire senses, when he pulled them out randomly like he just did.

"I'd like for you to come home with me," Eric said casually as he walked over to his desk. He started picking up notebooks and folders and put them in his laptop bag.

"Okay," I replied, watching him put his laptop in too. I kind of figured I'd be spending the night at his place anyway.

He zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Are you able to drive, at this hour?"

"Yeah, no problem." I hadn't drunk anything and I wasn't incredibly sleepy. I'd be fine.

He nodded briefly, focused on texting something to someone. After a few more vampire-speed typing he looked up and said, "Chow will close tonight. We can go now."

"Where's Pam?" I asked as we walked through the secret exit.

"I told her she could leave early tonight, since she worked a lot of hours the last couple of days. You can follow me home, and then leave whenever you want tomorrow, since you'll have your car with you this time."

We both got in our cars and what seemed to be in no time at all, we were at Eric's neighborhood. He signed me in, and once it was my turn to stop at the security desk the night watchman gave me a pass to put on my dash board. After that, the next stop was Eric's house, where he parked in the garage and I parked in the driveway.

Eric was opening my door before I even shut my car off, helping me out. Though he was carrying his laptop bag, he still put his free arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head as we walked to the garage.

Once Eric turned off all of the security alarms and we were both inside, he went to change into comfier clothes while I made myself a cup of coffee. It took a little longer because he had one of those insanely high-tech coffee machines that look something like what scientists from the fifties would have thought coffee makers would look like in the future, but I got it to work and was soon happily sipping from a mug.

Eric emerged from downstairs wearing sweatpants and a white "Human-Lickin' Good" tee-shirt that had a mock-image of the KFC logo, except with a vampire instead of the Colonel.

"You're kidding me," is what I said when I stopped laughing.

He smiled devilishly and asked, "You like it?" Right after he said that he raised an eyebrow, and that was when I realized both of his hands were behind his back, like he was hiding something from me.

"No. Nuh-huh. You don't have what I think you have," I said, putting my cup of coffee on the counter and backing away from him, my hands out in front of me.

"That's where you're wrong," he replied, showing me a matching shirt, except it said, "Vampire-Lickin' Good" on it. He even wiggled it at me before turning it around so I could see that there was a Fangtasia logo on the back.

"Oh God," I muttered, but when Eric held the shirt out for me I took it. It was so big I could put it on over my shirt.

Eric whistled once it was on, and I rolled my eyes. "I can't believe you right now."

"What? It is funny," he said defensively.

"Yeah, _funny looking_."

He put his hands on my waist as he twirled me around. Then, Eric just looked at me for a second before he reached out and licked my cheek. "It's true," he said, his grip tightening as I squealed and put my hands up.

Wanting revenge, I pretended like I was going to hug him before I sneakily darted my tongue out and licked the corner of Eric's mouth that was creeping upwards in a smirk. "Yeah, but it's still funny looking." I punched him in the chest for good measure, too.

"I can't wait to show you the 'Got Blood?' ones, then," Eric teased.

I rolled my eyes, trying to hold in the giggles that were trying to escape. "You're insane."

"You're insane if you don't like this shirt," he replied, smiling down at me.

I reached up and kissed him on the lips. "I never said I didn't like this shirt."

…

We both ended up sleeping in those shirts after staying up as late as possible talking about things that weren't threatening to kill us or destroy our lives—something, we decided, that was happening all too frequently for our liking.

So that's how we ended up just talking, like what we did when Eric had amnesia. That was when we had time to lounge around with our bodies entwined; when Eric and I got together for the second time, we were kind of thrown into it, and spent most of our time with other people—Pam, Chow (ugh), Bill (double ugh), and Stan.

But now it was just me and Eric and we could talk in private about private topics that we really hadn't shared with anyone else before—topics like my admission that before Eric I hadn't really thought of my future, and what it could be like now that I didn't have Gran to take care of or Jason to look after. It never occurred to me that maybe I didn't have to work at Merlotte's all my life, growing old while watching the same old customers do the same. Of course, I loved my family farmhouse and the little piece of dirt it was on like Scarlett loved Tara and would never abandon it, but that didn't mean I could do something more meaningful with my life than fetch chicken baskets all day.

Eric was influencing me, all right; it'd be stupid not to admit it. Though he wasn't the biggest fan of Sam and his bar, he never came out right and said he didn't like me working there—he just listed all of the other, better opportunities I could take. Opportunities like becoming a professional telepath.

"Sookie, it's something you do all the time no matter what, like breathing. You should at least be paid for it, and paid well at that," Eric reasoned, lying on his back next to me, his arms crossed so his hands were cradling his head instead of his pillow.

"I agree with you on that, Eric, but," I said, and then stopped when I didn't quite know how to say what I was thinking.

"But what?" Eric prompted, looking over at me.

I rolled over on my side so I was facing him, and after a couple seconds he did the same. "But, I've always worked at Merlotte's, for all of the seven years it's been open. It's all I know how to do to make a living, save babysitting a few nights here and there for Arlene."

He smiled at me, showing his white teeth in the dim light from the tableside lamp. "That's not true. Firstly, you were paid for babysitting me—fifty thousand dollars worth of babysitting, I might add, and it will always be worth every penny."

I smiled warmly at Eric and reached over to hold his hand. He squeezed tightly before continuing, "Secondly, I haven't received the check for your troubles in Dallas, but that's another job you performed, and you were perfect at that too. And since I know you will soon be employed as the official telepath of Louisiana, surely you'd have to take so much time off from work Sam would be forced to hire someone to take your shifts. It might just be easier to quit … for you, for Sam, for whoever ends up working for him, and, yes I'll admit it, for me as well."

I blinked up at his ceiling, thinking over what he just said. "I'll think about it. Really think about it. But I won't ever move out of the farmhouse," I murmured, finally.

"I know you won't."

"Not even to let Jason move in and take my place."

"I know that too."

"That's Gran's house, and it always be, even if she entertained mean, beautiful, centuries-old fairy princes in her bed there. I may not like Bon Temps or its residents, but I love that house and won't ever give it up."

"You won't have to, Sookie. You don't have to live in the same town you work in. And, you can live in more than one place too. It's what I do, after all."

"Yeah, I know. And I'm sure by this time next week I'll _really _know."

"I must confess to you," Eric said delicately, "that I've been looking into buying property in New Orleans. Nothing big—maybe a penthouse or an apartment building. Somewhere we can stay when we visit the queen, so we're not stuck in her palace surrounded by her people obeying her every command; somewhere we can have our privacy and freedom. Just in case. Just to be safe."

Oh boy. "Is she really that bad?" I asked, barely above a whisper.

Eric propped his head up by leaning on his pillow with his elbow. "Sookie, she sent her own personal investigator to seduce you into revealing your telepathy. She has spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in her attempt to secure you working for her. She wants you, but I want you more. It's just a safety precaution, really."

He looked down at me and saw the frightened expression on my face, and with his free arm he reached over and comfortingly rubbed up and down my arm as he joked, "And besides, if we had sex in her palace everyone would be able to hear and smell it, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

I lowered my eyes. That was, of course, assuming I would be psychologically capable of having sex by the time I met the queen, which apparently is sometime next week.

I might have stopped the eye contact, but unfortunately that didn't mean Eric stopped watching me. "Oh, Sookie," he groaned, and I looked up in time to see him close his eyes briefly. "I apologize for the lack of insight while making that comment; it was tacky and inconsiderate and—"

"And something for me to strive for, whenever that is," I said softly, putting a finger to his lips to stop it.

He opened his eyes then, just gazing back at me.

"We don't have to have sex when we visit the queen, or when you're next to me, or anywhere else until you're absolutely ready for it. I want you to know that," he said after a moment. I moved my finger and stroked his cheek.

"I do know that, Eric, I do."

"Sookie, I've been meaning to ask this … should I help you find someone to talk to, someone who's had experience with it?" he asked hesitantly.

I sighed heavily. "I don't know."

"Because I can. I mean, I will."

"Oh, I don't doubt it, Eric. It's just … I don't know if I'd feel comfortable talking about it with someone who didn't know me. I'll think about it, though. Okay?"

"Okay."

"But so far, I haven't had any troubles. And I would have told you if I did."

"That's good."

"Maybe we can just take baby steps."

"Would that really solve the whole issue?" he asked carefully.

I bit my lip. "Eric, there's something you need to know about me."

He looked a little troubled, but he nodded his head against the trouble.

I inhaled, then exhaled, then told Eric something I maybe should have told him earlier, maybe. "Before this, before you, before any vampires, before I was even a teenager, I was … I was molested. By my Uncle Bartlett."

Eric's eyebrows shot into his hair and his Adam's apple bobbed dangerously as he unnecessarily swallowed, but he held his tongue and let me continue. I loved him for that. But, I could still tell he was starting to freak out a little.

"I guess I was six or seven," I said slowly, "and I know you can tell, he never actually, ah, went all the way, but he did other stuff. Stuff he shouldn't have done."

Eric's cool hand found my slightly shaky one, and he steadied it very comfortingly.

"And the worst thing, Eric, the worst thing is that every time he came to visit, I always knew what he was going to do because I could read his mind! And there wasn't anything I could do to stop it."

After a moment, he asked, in a hoarse voice, "Did you tell anyone? Your Gran, perhaps?"

My heart swelled just thinking about her. "Yeah, I told her. She believed me, when my parents didn't."

"Your own parents didn't believe you?" Eric asked incredulously, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. He noticed his volume and recovered by softly adding, "Why?"

"Well, my mom thought I learned about stuff like that from a book in the library, or someone on the school bus. And my dad, I didn't tell my dad about it after it happened because I was too embarrassed. I didn't want to talk about anything like that with my dad, or any man."

Eric didn't have anything to say, and I started talking just to cover up the silence.

"Gran got it right away, though. He's her brother, but she still cut him off once she found out. It was right after Jason and I went to live with Gran, after my parents died. And the first time Uncle

Bartlett came to her house I hid under the porch. I stayed under there the whole time he was here, reading all of his thoughts about me while forcing myself to be silent. When she found me and asked me why, I told her. And she believed me. I haven't seen him since then."

"You mean to say, Sookie, that he's still alive?"

"To the best of my knowledge. I try not to think about him whenever possible—before, before Gabe I hadn't really thought of him at all."

"And you didn't see anyone for that? No guidance counselor at school?"

"No," I answered immediately, "and I don't know if I would have then—or now. It was just something that wasn't ever discussed, ever. Jason doesn't even know about it."

"Maybe you could talk to me about it, about Gabe and Uncle Bartlett," Eric suggested. When I did my best to hide my doubt, he continued, "Sookie, I'm serious. You trust me, and I trust you. I wouldn't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. I wouldn't have to ask you how you feel after every time you said something, because I'd be able to feel what you feel, if we let down our shields. And … and I imagine I have a better idea of what you're going through, what you've been through, than the best psychologist out there."

"_What_?" Now it was my turn to be surprised, and I was doing it well.

"Tonight's the night for big secrets, I suppose," Eric said dryly.

He got that thousand-yard stare in his eyes for a few moments before he switched it off and looked at me again. "My maker, Appius Livius Ocella, did not treat me like I treat Pam; he treated me like I have never, and will never, treated anyone in my entire existence. He has different ideas about what it is like to be a maker, and one of them is that you must do whatever your maker tells you to do, whenever he tells you to do it, whether or not you want to do it, ever. He was very … forceful that way."

I breathed in and out very slowly. "Ohhhhh," I said, drawing out the word. Maybe Eric did have a good idea of what I'd been through.

"He's a fighter, like me, and he's very intelligent, like me, but a main difference between us is that he liked men, of course, and that took some getting used to. I had never done that. But when you're a new vampire, or someone who had limited sexual partners or experience, anything sexual seems exciting, so even that I enjoyed . . . eventually."

"Eventually," I repeated, adopting the same monotone Eric had. I was looking at Eric in a new light now, just like he was probably looking at me in a new light. I don't know if it was the same for him as it was for me, but I felt a little better putting everything out on the table and I hoped Eric did too.

"He was stronger then, as he is now. I was bigger—taller, longer arms, more muscular—but for a couple centuries that didn't matter. And even then, sometimes it didn't; I had to obey him. He was my sire, and if respect for him didn't cause me to obey, then his compulsion would. You have to obey your sire; it's impossible to resist."

A couple centuries. _Centuries_. Jesus Christ. No wonder Eric said he would have a better idea of what I was going through.

I couldn't imagine Eric doing something he didn't want to do, being in a subservient position. Of course, he had a boss now—I knew that very well, even though I'd never officially seen it in action. But he didn't have to bow and scrape, and he made most of his own decisions.

"I can't imagine it," I said finally.

"I wouldn't want you to." His mouth pulled down at one corner, a moody and wry expression I hadn't seen before. It didn't look right on him.

I don't know how long we laid there, silently weighed down in each other's revelations.

"Thank you for telling me yours," I said finally, snuggling closer to him and just plain old _feeling _closer to him, closer than I'd ever felt to anyone ever.

"Thank you for telling me yours," he murmured back to me, his arms circling around me like they had never been before.

We were silent again; he was so silent I was sure he was dead to the world. But he surprised me when he murmured, "Take all the time you need, dear one. Do what you have to do to get over it. I know I did."

"I will. But hopefully it won't be that long," I whispered back.

I could just barely make out Eric's small smile, which was the last thing I saw before falling asleep.

…

**A/N: Now that the story's really winding down—less than five chapters, and I mean it this time—I've been putting some thought into what I want to do for the Eric POV companion story, Dead To Your World.**

**Now, as everyone here has noticed, my updates aren't anywhere near a normal or consistent cycle, so I don't think it would be fair to anyone to write an actual, fully drawn-out story. And to be honest, I don't think I have it in me to spend another year writing the same story but with different words. **

**That being said, I've been thinking of doing outtakes of Dead To My World, something I've seen other authors here do for some of their longer and more complex stories. I would take scenes or chapters that I feel are important to the story—like the one where Eric wakes up all alone in Sookie's house, or the one where Eric gets his memory back—and write it in Eric's POV. I would also be happy to do the same for any requested scenes as well. The way I see it, it's like having the story without any of the filler chapters. **

**Thoughts? Questions? Compliments or complaints? I want to hear them. Drop me a PM or add it in your review—anything to just let me know what you think of my plan. But as of right now, that's the direction I'll be heading in, and I'd love it if you guys were with me. **


	57. Chapter 57

**A/N: Hi all! So glad to be able to read all of your positive responses. I really appreciated your feedback, and it does look like I'll be doing outtakes of this story in Eric's POV. Now, I still have a couple chapters left in this story until it's finished, but you might want to start adding me on author alert if you haven't already done so, and also start thinking of scenes you would want to read about. Because I'm already starting to.**

**And now for something only a little bit different … thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty for looking this over. I did go back and make some edits, so any mistakes are mine. I also left some of the original wording from the second book in this chapter, so thanks to Charlaine Harris for those. **

…

The rest of the week zoomed by, until it hit Friday. Friday. Ugh. The night of the sex party. No "TGIF" coming from me, that's for sure.

By the time Friday came around, I was so wiped out there was nothing I wanted to do more than curl up in front of my television and watch movies with Eric. I had forgotten how rough working at Merlotte's could be, but the customers and the pace of things were doing a _really _good job reminding me.

Of course, it didn't help that halfway through my afternoon shift on Friday I realized I didn't have a clue of what to wear to the orgy. It was so stupid of me, but it just never crossed my mind. I guess I was too busy worrying about what would happen at the orgy to think about how I would be dressed there. At the beginning, at least. Aw, crap. Not again.

I already knew nothing would be at Tara's Togs, not that I would go there anyway—I'd be too scared that I might let something slip anyway, and I didn't want that to happen. Not with what happened the last time someone talked about this sex club.

Where else could I go? My shift was over at eight. I needed time to shower and get ready. Eric was coming over at nine-thirty. The party started at ten. There was simply no time. I should have planned better.

From what I'd gathered from Mike's scattered memories, people didn't exactly dress up for this orgy, so it's not like I could ask Eric—or worse, Pam—to bring over a little dominatrix outfit from Fangtasia (not that I would). No one was wearing leather or a dog collar, and no one was holding a whip— I didn't even see a single garter. This party was as white trash as it could be without a bowl of Cheetos on a wooden TV tray in the living room.

So I did what I could. After my shift ended, I came home and showered and blew out my hair and put on my makeup, all the while going over possible outfit after outfit of what I could wear to this stupid party. But by the time Eric came over, letting himself in through the back door while calling out, "Sookie, it's me," I still didn't have an outfit on.

Eric was up in my bedroom before I had made it to the stairs. He kissed me hello, then gave me the once-over. I was in my bathrobe and slippers, and Eric just raised an eyebrow.

"I was wondering what a good girl like you would wear to an orgy, but I can't say a fluffy purple bathrobe ever entered the picture," he said flirtatiously.

I shook my head, especially when he saucily continued, "But what's under the bathrobe, yes, I did wonder about," and reached for the piece of fabric holding the front of the bathrobe together.

Eric was wearing a trench coat that had a similar piece of fabric holding it closed, and I reached out to finger it. "Well, mister, I can't say I imagined you wearing a black military-style trench coat to an orgy either."

He smirked. "That's where you're wrong."

He brought his hands down to where mine were, and slowly untied the belt. I let go after a second, and with that Eric dramatically threw his coat off.

All I could do was stop and stare.

Normally Eric was a jeans-and-tee kind of guy. To him, switching it up was wearing custom-made suits or sweatpants. But tonight, tonight he wore a pink tank top and Lycra leggings. I don't know where he got them; I didn't know any company made Lycra leggings in Men's X-tra Large Tall. They were pink and aqua, but I barely noticed because I was too busy drinking Eric in.

"Wow," I said, since it was all I could think of to say. Believe me, that one syllable was hard enough to manage. When you've got a big guy like Eric wearing Lycra it doesn't leave a whole lot to the imagination.

Eric smirked at me and put his hands on his hips. Yes, he was enjoying this, no doubt about it.

"Turn around," I said, and had to bite my lip when he obliged. The rear view was almost better than the front. Eric really did have a nice ass. Problem was, he knew it too, the bastard. I think he even flexed for me.

"I know you said this wasn't a gay sex club, but I decided this wouldn't hurt," he said, fluttering his eyelashes at me. "I showed you mine, now you show me yours."

He stepped back a little and looked at me expectantly.

"This is all I have so far," I admitted, opening my robe to flash Eric a peek at my matching red bra and panties set. But a peek wasn't enough for him, and I should have known that it wouldn't be. He reached over and brushed the robe off my shoulders, just enough so it pooled on the ground around my ankles and I was standing before him in my underwear.

Eric's eyes darkened with lust. "Believe me, that's good enough."

I smiled at his compliment, which only further convinced me how much Eric wanted me. "Thanks. But I really don't want anyone else to see me in just this. At least, at first."

"On second thought, maybe you're right," Eric said, "I don't want anyone else to see you like that. This view is for me and for me only."

"That's exactly how I feel about you and your Lycra-d ass."

"Oh, is it?"

I smirked back at him. "Yeah, it is."

We stood smiling at each other in the hallway before I chanced a look at the grandfather watch in the corner and had to stifle a yelp. "Holy smokes, Eric, it's quarter of and I still have no idea what to wear!"

"Shall I help you with that?" Eric asked gleefully, striding past me into my bedroom. By the time I caught up with him (had to pick up my bathrobe and his trench coat, which he had left behind on the floor) he was already in front of my chest of drawers, poised to open the top one.

"What did you wear to the orgies you've been to?" I asked casually.

"I wore an animal hide to the last one."

"Oh. Well then. This is all I have so far," I said, and he turned around to look at where I was pointing.

On the bed I had laid out a revealing white tank top that dipped down much, much, much lower than I thought it had in the store (so much that you could see the pretty lace pattern of my bra), and a pair of jean shorts left over from my junior high days. However, when I put them on (and was pleased to see they still fit me, even though I wouldn't be caught dead wearing these in actual public) Eric very poetically said they encased me "like a caterpillar embraces a butterfly."

"More like Daisy Dukes," I muttered, standing in front of the mirror to look for panty lines. I knew it was foolish of me to worry about panty lines before going to an orgy, but any distraction that kept me from thinking about what I'd be doing when I was actually at the orgy was very much appreciated. Besides, I was pretty sure the lace from my panties would be permanently imprinted on my butt, since the shorts were so tight.

"What shoes are you going to wear?" Eric asked, sitting on the corner of my bed as he watched me check out my ass.

I turned around to see what he was wearing—his trusty rubber flip flops. After all, his black shit-kicking boots would have clashed with the pink spandex. "Same as you, I guess," I answered, walking over to the closet and bending down to put on the same flip flops I wore outside when I was tanning.

"Remind me of our agenda again, Sookie?" he asked, now watching me brush my hair in the mirror.

I looked in the reflection as I replied, "We're just going to go in there and try and blend in while I read people's minds and try to find something about Lafayette."

"But what then? You need to find something that will hold up in court—saying you read someone's mind isn't going to amount to anything substantial."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just going to play it by ear, I guess. Hopefully I'll find something tonight, and we won't have to come back for more." I turned around, and he sat up a little as soon as I did that. "Okay. I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's just get this over with." With that, I picked up a sweater and shrugged it on.

He sat up and grabbed his trench coat from where I had left it on the bed. "Sure," he gamely said, following me out the room and out of the house. Eric had said before that since he was escorting me to the orgy, he would drive us there, and in style—which was why his Corvette was parked out back.

"Sookie, you have to relax," Eric said finally, watching my fingers tapping on my thighs instead of keeping his eyes on the main road he had just pulled out on.

I forced myself to stop fidgeting as I replied, "I know, I know. It's just that I can't even … _you know_ … for my boyfriend-husband-lover, or whatever you are to me. How am I supposed to do it in front of people I can't stand when they're wearing clothes? Lafayette's my friend, but I don't want to have sex with a single person in there, except for you in our alone time, but there's a pretty damn good chance I'll have no control once I'm in there, and I don't like that."

I stopped, thinking about my past of doing intimate things I didn't want to do with people. It hit way too close to home, what with Gabe and my recent retelling of Uncle Bartlett.

"For the record, I think of you as my lover and my wife. Girlfriend sounds too young for what we have," he said, looking over at me.

"Okay, husband."

"Good. And, you would do well to remember that I have the ability to control anyone."

I wondered if Eric's vampire vision allowed him to see the gigantic light bulb that just turned on over my head. Of course he did. How did I forget that?

He continued, "I'll be watching out for you Sookie, the whole time. If someone's doing something to you that you don't like, just let me know. Let's have a signal—why don't you wink at me if you want me to glamour someone away from you, or stop someone."

"Okay," I breathed. That sounded good to me.

When we finally arrived at the clearing in the woods where Jan Fowler's cabin was—something that took surprisingly long because Eric drove grandma-slow over the dirt roads so as to not ruin his car—I could just about make out four cars parked on the makeshift dirt driveway. Unfortunately, I couldn't discern what car belonged to whom, and it made me wonder how many people were at this sex party if there were only four cars. Besides, I couldn't even see Tara's car, and I would have thought she'd been there.

I could see that the windows facing us were open, but the shades were drawn. When I stepped out of the car I could hear voices drifting out, though I couldn't make out words.

I was suddenly deeply reluctant to enter Jan Fowler's cabin.

"Sookie, Sookie, you can do this. We can do this," Eric said, getting out and joining me where I was leaning up against the hood of his car.

I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Someone was watching us through a partially raised shade and I idly remarked, "We're being watched."

"Then let's give them something to watch," Eric replied, and without even yanking me to him he brought his mouth on mine.

I felt stiff in comparison to how easy Eric was making it seem; I felt like I was just going through the motions of what you should do when you kiss someone. Open your mouth this way, use your tongue this way, put your hands here. I loved kissing Eric, don't get me wrong, but I was finding out I was having trouble enjoying it as much when I knew people I didn't like were watching and gossiping about it. I liked kissing just for me and Eric and nobody else.

Evidently I was a natural kisser, even when my head wasn't really in it—judging from the state of Eric's Lycra, at least.

"Ready to go in?" I asked, doing my best to keep my eyes above his chest. It was something that was extremely hard to do, since I had just looked down.

"Not really," Eric said frankly. "But I suppose we have to. At least I look in the mood."

I snorted, and he shrugged. "What? It is true."

We went up the steps to a large wooden deck, strewn with some plastic folding chairs and a large gas grill. The screen door screeched as Eric pulled it open, sounding like something out of a scary movie, and I shared a look with Eric before I knocked lightly on the inner door. He pushed strength and comfort at me through the bond right after I did that.

"Who is it?" Jan's voice called out.

"_Psh, like you weren't just watching us_," I muttered under my breath, and Eric elbowed me sharply. "It's Sookie and a friend," I answered brightly, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Oh, yippee! Come on in!" she called.

When I pushed open the door, all the faces in the room were turned toward us. The welcoming smiles turned to startled looks as Eric came in behind me.

Eric stepped to my side, his coat over his arm, and I almost hooted at the variety of expressions. After the shock of realizing Eric was vampire, which everyone in the room did after a minute or so, eyes flickered up and down the length of Eric's body, taking in the panorama. I balled my fists. How could I ask Eric to glamour everyone in the room to not ogle him without seeming desperate? There had to be a way, right?

"Hey, Sookie, who's your friend?" Jan Fowler, a multiple divorcee in her thirties wearing what looked like a lace slip, called out. Jan's hair was streaked and professionally tousled, and her makeup would have seemed in place on stage, though for a cabin by Mimosa Lake the effect was a bit much. But as hostess, I guess she felt she could wear what she wanted to her own orgy. She always liked drawing attention to herself; at Merlotte's she was one of the only people who ever ordered any kind of wine when she came in.

Eric's elbow brushed against my arm, and I knew without looking at him what he was trying to say to me. After a moment I unbuttoned my sweater and placed it on a coat hook, all the while enduring the embarrassment of receiving the same scrutiny Eric had been given. And it didn't escape my notice that Mike Spencer seemed to be my most ardent watcher.

"This is Eric," I said, unnecessarily gesturing to the person everyone's attention was already directed at. "I hope you don't mind me bringing a friend?"

"Oh, the more the merrier," Jan replied with undoubted sincerity. Her eyes never rose to Eric's face, the little bitch. "Eric, what can I get you to drink?"

"Blood?" Eric asked hopefully. _Pfft. Ever the opportunist_.

"Yeah, I think I've got some O here," she said, unable to tear her gaze away from the Lycra. "Sometimes we . . . pretend." She raised her eyebrows significantly, and kind of leered at Eric.

"No need to pretend anymore," he said, giving her back look for look. Jan stopped for a second, obviously expecting Eric to follow her, but he didn't. He just stayed next to me, his arm around my waist with a thumb playing with my belt loop.

After a moment, Jan righted herself and walked into the kitchen. I looked up at Eric and smiled, but stopped when I saw Tara on the other side of the room.

I had found out who this Eggs guy was that Mike had so briefly mentioned the night he propositioned me—it was hard not to notice, with his height and his muscles. It was also hard not to notice Tara when she was sulking like she was now, her dark brows drawn down over dark eyes. Tara was wearing zebra-print bra and panties, and she looked pretty good. Her toenails and fingernails were painted scarlet so they matched, and so did her lipstick. She'd come prepared. I met her eyes, and she looked away. It didn't take a mind reader to recognize shame.

Tara seemed to be the only one with the good sense to be shamed. Everyone else was either too drunk or too busy—or a terrible combination of both. There were discarded alcohol bottles everywhere, along with some, ah, knickknacks strewn around on a soft rug. I didn't even know what some of them were. What's more, I didn't even _want _to know.

Mike Spencer and Cleo Hardaway were on a dilapidated couch against the left-hand wall, and they waved at me like they weren't completely naked. But I pasted a cheerful smile on my face, and smiled at Cleo Hardaway, as I usually did when I saw her. Granted, she had always been wearing more clothes when she ran the high school cafeteria.

Well, I'd known it would be bad, but I guess you just can't prepare yourself for some sights. Cleo's huge milk-chocolate brown boobs were glistening with some kind of oil, and Mike's private parts were equally shiny. I didn't even want to think about that.

Mike waved me over, probably to assist with the oil, but I looked away, my gaze setting on Tara, who had been watching me.

"I sure never thought you'd come," Tara said. She was smiling, too, but not real happily; it was more of a grimace than a grin, and she looked pretty damn miserable. Maybe the fact that Eggs was just squeezing her boob, even though he too was having trouble looking above Eric's stomach. I tried to meet Tara's eyes, but I felt sick.

I'd only been here five minutes, but I was willing to bet this was the longest five minutes of my life.

"Here you go, Eric baby," Jan called out, reappearing with a bottle of the generic grocery store version of True Blood. She was leaning against the door frame, holding out the bottle in front of her so she was deliberately making Eric come to her. The little bitch.

I brushed Eric's hand to show it was okay, and a moment later he walked over to fetch the drink, causing Eggs to now stare at Eric's ass.

"Do you do this real often?" I asked Tara, absurdly. She slinked away without replying, her eyes on the floor the whole time.

Without dragging his gaze away from Eric, Eggs began fumbling with the button on my shorts with his hot, sweaty fingers—all without introducing himself to me or even giving me a how-de-do.

But he had been drinking; I could smell it. I could see it too; his eyes were glassy and his jaw was slack. "Your friend is really big," he said, as if his mouth was watering, and maybe it was.

"Lots bigger than Lafayette," I whispered sneakily, and his gaze jerked up to meet mine. "I figured he'd be welcome."

"Oh, yes," Eggs said, deciding not to confront my statement. His selective judgment seemed to be working out beautifully for him. "Yes, Eric's . . . very large. It's good to have some diversity."

"This is as rainbow as Bon Temps gets, for the people that aren't as _diverse _or _rainbow_ every day" I said, trying again. But that had been a big mistake. Egg was just thinking about Eric's butt.

I'd never been particularly jealous before, but tonight it seemed I'd be making up for lost time. That butt was _my _butt, goddamnit.

Like I'd wished him there, Eric suddenly appeared behind me, removing me from Eggs's clumsy fingers. I leaned back into Eric, really glad I could always count on him. It was the people I never expected to misbehave, people like high school cafeteria workers or funeral home directors, which scared me. Seeing people you'd known all your life act like this, well, it was deeply disgusting.

I wasn't too sure I could keep my face from showing this, so I wiggled against Eric, and when he made a happy sound, I turned in his arms to face him. I put my arms up around his neck and raised my face. He happily complied with my silent suggestion. With my face concealed, my mind was free to roam. I opened myself up mentally, just as Eric parted my lips with his tongue, so I felt completely unguarded. There were some strong "senders" in that room, and I no longer felt like myself, but like a pipeline for other people's overwhelming needs.

I could taste the flavor of Eggs' thoughts. He was remembering Lafayette, thin brown body, talented fingers, and heavily made up eyes. He was remembering Lafayette's whispered suggestions. Then he was choking those happy memories off with more unpleasant ones, Lafayette protesting violently, shrilly . . .

"Sookie," Eric said in my ear, so low that I don't think another person in the room could've heard him. "Sookie, relax. I have you."

I made my hand stroke his neck. I found that someone else was behind Eric, sort of making out with him from behind. Or trying to, anyways.

Jan's hand reached around Eric and began rubbing my rear. Since she was touching me, her thoughts were absolutely clear; she was an exceptional "sender." I flicked through her mind like the pages of a book, and read nothing of interest. She was only thinking of Eric's anatomy, and worrying about her own fascination with Cleo's chest. Nothing there for me.

I reached in another direction, wormed into the head of Mike Spencer, found the nasty tangle I'd expected, found that as he rolled Cleo's breasts in his hands he was seeing other brown flesh, limp and lifeless. His own flesh rose as he remembered this. Through his memories I saw Jan asleep on the lumpy couch, Lafayette's protest that if they didn't stop hurting him he would tell everyone what he'd done and with whom, and then Mike's fists descending, Tom Hardaway kneeling on the thin dark chest . . .

I had to get out of here. I couldn't bear it, even if I hadn't just learned what I needed to know. I felt Jan's hand massaging my ass. This was the most joyless excuse for sex I had ever seen: sex separated from mind and spirit, from love or affection. Even simple liking.

According to my four-times-married friend Arlene, men had no problem with this. Evidently, some women didn't either. Me, I'd only been with one guy and that was good enough for me.

"I have to get out," I breathed into Eric's mouth. I knew he could hear me.

"Go along with me," he replied, and it was almost as if I was hearing him in my head.

He lifted me and slung me over his shoulder. My hair trailed down almost to the middle of his thigh, and I resisted the urge to give his butt a squeeze, show people what was mine. They didn't deserve the show.

"We're going outside for a minute," he told Jan, and I felt her hand on Eric's waist as she leaned in for a kiss. Eric's neck moved against my legs, so I was sure she only got cheek.

"Can I come, too?" she asked, in a breathless wannabe sex kitten voice that was so attractive it made her sound like she just finished walking up a flight of stairs. It was lucky my face wasn't showing.

"Give us a minute. Sookie is still a little shy," Eric said, smiling at everyone.

"Warm her up good," Mike Spencer said in a muffled voice. "We all want to see our Sookie fired up."

"She will be hot," Eric promised. I could hear the bite in his tone, but apparently no one else could.

"Hot damn," said another male voice, one whose owner I couldn't see and didn't even want to.

_Good Lord._ These people.

Then, bless Eric, we were out the door and he laid me out on the hood of the Corvette. He lay on top of me, but most of his weight was supported by his hands resting on the hood on either side of my shoulders. He was looking down at me, his face clamped down like a ship's deck during a storm. His fangs were out. His eyes were wide. Since the whites were so purely white, I could see them. It was too dark to see the blue of his eyes, even if I'd wanted to.

"That was . . ." I began, and had to stop. I took a deep breath. "You can call me a goody two-shoes if you want to, and I wouldn't blame you, after all this was my idea. But you know what I think? I think that's awful. Do men really like that? Do women, for that matter? Is it fun to have sex with someone you don't even like?"

"Most people don't have sex for fun, Sookie. It's usually for even more immature reasons," he replied. He rested more heavily on me and moved a little. "But sex with you is always fun."

Uh-oh. "Eric, remember why we're here?"

"They're watching."

"Even if they are, remember?"

"Yes, I remember."

"So we need to go."

That woke him up a little. "Do you have any evidence? Do you know what you wanted to find out?"

"I don't have any more evidence than I had before tonight, not evidence you can hand out in court." Even though I knew no one else could hear us, I still put my arms around Eric's neck and whispered in his ear, "But I know who did it. It was Mike, Tom, and maybe Cleo."

"Did you see anything you could use for evidence? Anything we could come back and look for?"

"No," I answered dejectedly, pouting a little. I had put myself through all of that for nothing. What did I get? More things to add to my list of what I should be seeing a therapist for.

"I just hate this," I said suddenly. "I don't like any part of this. You know what? I've done everything for Lafayette and Andy Bellefleur I can, though it's precious little. Andy will just have to go from here on the little snatches I caught. He's a cop. He can find court evidence. I'm not selfless enough to go any further with this." I caught my breath and slowed myself down. "Eric, I appreciate your offering to help me, and I appreciate your willingness to come to an awful place like this."

He chuckled. "Believe me, Sookie, this little gathering of trash is nothing, nothing, compared to some of the places I have been."

And I believed him. "Okay, but it's still awful to me. I'm done here."

"No you're not," I heard a somewhat familiar male voice cry out somewhere in front of us, and Eric and I instantly popped our heads up to see who it was.

It was Andy Bellefleur, drunk as a skunk and not smelling much better than one. Oh, and he was holding a gun pointed right at us.

"Good evening, Detective Bellefleur," Eric said while calmly turning to face the man he was buttering up. He still stood in front of me, probably for protection, but with the way he was acting and sounding you'd have thunk he was talking to Andy while watching a beautiful sunset on a nice tropical beach.

There was a sudden surge of voices on the porch of the cabin. Someone clearly had been looking out of the window—I had kind of wondered if Eric had made that up—because, though no voices had been raised, the showdown in the clearing had attracted the attention of the revelers inside. While Eric and I had been in the yard, the orgy had progressed. Tom Hardaway was naked, and Jan, too. Eggs looked drunker, and Tara looked surlier.

"Stand together in a group," he bellowed. The humans on the porch did just that, but Eric and I just remained where we were. Andy looked at us like, _come on, you too. _

Eric shrugged. "Have you ever dealt with vampires, Detective?" he asked.

"No, not really," Andy said. "But I can shoot you dead. I have silver bullets."

'_Idiot,_' I thought, and judging by the look on Eric's face he was thinking that too. Silver would weaken a vampire, for sure, but it wouldn't kill them. Silver bullets only killed werewolves. Andy was getting his supernatural creatures mixed up. And it was no small wonder, considering the amount of alcohol he'd consumed this evening. If that was by Sam's hand, I'd have to have a talk with him.

"You don't want to shoot me dead. You don't want to shoot Sookie dead. In fact, you don't want to shoot anyone dead, do you, Detective Bellefleur?" Eric asked. He was trying to glamour Andy—but it wasn't working because he couldn't catch Andy's eyes.

"I will if I find the murderer," Andy replied, brushing him off. "Now, go stand over with the others."

After a moment Eric shrugged in shoulders in the most carefree way possible, and all but sauntered over, holding my hand the whole time. He walked on the side facing Andy, still protecting me. When we reached the others, Eric was sure to stand in front of me as much as he could without attracting attention to it. Not my most feminine moment, but hey, when someone's pointing a gun, you kinda don't complain if someone immortal steps in front of you.

"Good. Now, which one of you was it, or was it all of you?" Andy asked, his voice louder with his newfound power.

We all kept silent. I was standing by Tara, who was shivering in her underwear. Tara was scared, no big surprise. I wondered if knowing Andy's thoughts would help any, and I began to focus on him. Drunks don't make for good reading, I can tell you, because they only think about stupid stuff, and their ideas are quite unreliable. Their memories are shaky, too. Andy didn't have too many thoughts at the moment. He didn't like anyone in the clearing, not even himself, and he was determined to get the truth out of someone.

"Sookie, come here," he yelled, pointing his gun at the ground next to him.

Eric put a hand behind his back to tell me not to do anything, but other than that he remained silent.

"I have to have her right here beside me in thirty seconds, or I shoot—her!" Andy said, pointing his gun right at me.

"Good luck living two seconds after that," Eric said lazily. He might as well been checking out his cuticles, with the tone of his voice.

But I believed him. Evidently Andy did, too.

"I don't care," Andy said. "She's not much loss to the world."

Well, that made me mad all over again. My temper had begun to die down, but that made it flare up in a big way. I was so mad I didn't even notice Eric's fangs had come down and his shoulders tensed up.

I stepped out from behind Eric and stomped down the steps to the yard. I wasn't so blind with anger that I ignored the gun, though I was so tempted to grab Andy by his balls and squeeze hard. I mean, it's not like he was married or anything like that.

"Now, Sookie, you read the minds of those people and you tell me which one did it," Andy ordered. He gripped the back of my neck with his big hands, like I was an untrained puppy, and swiveled me around to face the deck.

That was it. "What the hell do you think I was doing here, you stupid shit? Do you think this is the way I like to spend my time, with assholes like these?"

Andy shook me by my neck. I am very strong, and there was a good chance that I could break free from him and grab the gun, but it was not close enough to a sure thing to make me comfortable. I decided to wait for a minute, and looked at Eric instead. Eggs was fondling his butt, the pig, but I was sure that wasn't the reason for the pained look on his face or the anger coming from the bond. I saw Eric put an arm behind his back, and then take a purposeful step towards me. But after that surprise and apprehension came from the bond, and I didn't know why. I don't think Eric did either, with the way he stopped after that one step and started looking around wildly.

Andy didn't notice. "Didya find anything? Tell me right now."

I was about to answer when someone else spoke up.

"Oh, who is being held like a little cub?" inquired a voice behind Andy.

If that was who I thought it was, then this was just _peachy._

"Oh, but it is my messenger!" The maenad sauntered around Andy in a wide circle and came to stand in front of him.

Just like last time, she was naked except for her long matted hair. She didn't seem that affected by the cold, unlike me and the rest of the humans. No pig though.

"Hello, messenger," the maenad said to me. "I believe I forgot to introduce myself last time. I am Callisto."

"Miss Callisto," I said, since I had no idea what to call her. I would have nodded, but Andy still had hold of my neck. It was sure beginning to hurt.

"Who is this human gripping you?" Callisto moved a little closer.

I don't know what Andy looked like, but everyone on the deck was enthralled and terrified. Well, not Eric, but he wasn't looking that good either. He was shaking his head at me and easing back, away from the humans. That wasn't good.

"This is Andy Bellefleur," I croaked.

I could tell from the way my skin crawled that the maenad had eased forward a little.

"You have never seen anything like me, have you?" she said to Andy.

"No," Andy admitted. He sounded dazed.

"Am I beautiful?"

"Yes," he said, without hesitation.

"Do I deserve tribute?"

"Yes," he said.

"I love drunkenness, and you are very drunk," Callisto said happily. "I love pleasures of the flesh, and these people are full of lust. This is my kind of place."

"Oh, good," Andy said uncertainly. "But one of these people is a murderer, and I need to know which."

"Not just one," I muttered. Reminded I was on the end of his arm, Andy shook me again.

I was getting really tired of this.

The maenad had gotten close enough now to touch me. She gently stroked my face, and I smelled earth and wine on her. Also, her BO. I didn't even know maenads could have BO, let alone BO as bad as this, but she really needed some kind of supernatural-strength deodorant.

"You are not drunk," she observed.

_No shit. _"No, ma'am."

"And you have not had the pleasures of the flesh this evening."

"Oh, just give me time," I laughed, quite hollowly.

She laughed. It was a high, whooping laugh. It went on and on and _on_.

Andy's grip loosened, as he grew more and more disconcerted by the maenad's nearness. Then he let go of me, quite suddenly.

"Come on up here, new girl," called Mike Spencer. "Let's have a look at you."

Oh my god, did the town coroner have a death wish?

I was on a heap on the ground, thankfully no longer Andy's preferred arm candy. From that point of view, I could see the maenad's arm snake around Andy's waist. Andy transferred his gun to his other hand so he could return the compliment.

"Now, what did you want to know?" she asked Andy. Her voice was calm and reasonable. She idly waved the long wand with the tuft on the end. It was called a thyrsis; I'd looked _maenad _up in the encyclopedia after I'd gotten attacked.

Now I could die educated. Great.

"One of those people killed a man named Lafayette, and I want to know which one," Andy said with the belligerence of the drunk.

"Of course you do, my darling," the maenad crooned. "Shall I find out for you?"

"Please," he begged.

"All right." She scanned the people, and crooked her finger at Eggs. Tara held on to his arm to try to keep him with her, but he lurched down the steps and over to the maenad, grinning foolishly all the while.

"Are you a girl?" Eggs asked.

"Not by any stretch of the imagination," Callisto said. "You have had a lot of wine." She touched him with the thyrsis.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed. He wasn't smiling anymore. He looked into Callisto's eyes, and he shivered and shook. Her eyes were glowing.

Eric was calling me to him, wanting me to come over to him. I looked over and saw he was looking at the hood of his car. Ignored by everyone, I began to crawl toward him. After the longest twenty seconds, I reached Eric's legs and gripped them like the lifeline they were. I felt his hand on my hair. I was scared to make the large movement of rising to my feet, but I did it—slowly.

Callisto wrapped her thin arms around Eggs and began to whisper to him. He nodded and whispered back. She kissed him, and he went rigid. When she left him to glide over to the deck, he stood absolutely still, staring into the woods.

She stopped by Eric and I, but ignored me, thankfully. Instead, she looked him up and down, and smiled that terrifying smile again. Eric looked at her chest fixedly, careful not to meet her eyes. "Lovely," she said, "just lovely. But not for me, you beautiful piece of dead meat."

Then she was up amongst the people on the deck. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of drinking and sex. She sniffed as if she was following a trail, and then she swung to face Mike Spencer.

His middle-aged body did not fare well in the chilly air, but Callisto seemed delighted with him.

"Oh," she said as happily as though she'd just gotten a present, "you're so proud! Are you a king? Are you a great soldier?"

"No," Mike said. "I own a funeral home." He didn't sound too sure. "What are you, lady?"

"Have you ever seen anything like me before?"

"No," he said, and all the others shook their heads.

"You don't remember my first visit?"

"No, ma'am." Good for ole Mike Spencer for remembering his manners at a time like this.

"But you've made me an offering before," she said earnestly.

"I have? An offering?" Now Mike Spencer sounded even more confused.

"Oh, yes, when you killed the little black man. The pretty one. He was a lesser child of mine, and a fitting tribute for me. I thank you for leaving him outside the drinking place; bars are my particular delight. Could you not find me in the woods?"

"Lady, we didn't make no offering," Tom Hardaway said, his dark skin covered in goose pimples and his penis gone south.

"I saw you," she protested.

Everything fell silent then. The woods around the lake, always full of little noises and tiny movements, became still.

"I love the violence of sex, I love the reek of drink," she said dreamily, and randomly. "I can run from miles away to be there for the end."

The fear pouring out of their heads began to fill mine up, and run out. I covered my face with my hands. I threw up the strongest shields I could fashion, but I could still barely contain the terror. My back arched, and I bit my tongue to keep from making a sound. Eric grabbed my hand and forced it in my mouth to quiet me. And then he pushed me down on the ground, belly-down, and kept his foot on my back to steady me.

"You hit him during sex," the maenad said to Tom. "You hit him, because you are proud, and his subservience disgusted and excited you." She stretched her bony hand to caress Tom's dark face. I could see the whites of his eyes. "And you"—she patted Mike on the cheek with her other hand—"you beat him, too, because you were seized with the madness. Then he threatened to tell." Her hand left Tom and rubbed his wife, Cleo. Cleo had thrown on a sweater before she went out, but it wasn't buttoned.

Since she had avoided notice, Tara began backing up. She was the only one who wasn't paralyzed by fear. I could feel the tiny spark of hope in her, the desire to survive. Tara crouched under a wrought-iron table on the deck, made herself into a little ball, and squeezed her eyes shut. She was making a lot of promises to God about her future behavior, if he'd get her out of this. That poured into my mind, too. The reek of fear from the others built to a peak, and I could feel my body go into tremors as they broadcast so heavily that it broke through all my barriers. I had nothing left of myself. I was only fear.

Jan, in her nudity, was completely ignored by the maenad. I can only suppose that there was nothing in Jan that appealed to the creature; Jan was not proud, she was pathetic, and she hadn't had a drink that night. She embraced sex out of other needs than the need for its loss of self—needs that had nothing to do with leaving one's mind and body for a moment of wonderful madness. Trying, as always, to be the center of the group, Jan reached out with a would-be flirty smile and took the maenad's hand. Suddenly she began to convulse, and the noises coming from her throat were horrible. Foam came from her mouth, and her eyes rolled up. She collapsed to the deck, and I could hear her heels drumming the wood.

Then the silence resumed. But something was brewing a few yards away in the little group on the deck: something terrible and fine, something pure and horrible. Their fear was subsiding, and my body began to calm again. The awful pressure eased in my head. But as it ebbed, a new force began to build, and it was indescribably beautiful and absolutely evil.

It was pure madness, it was mindless madness. From the maenad poured the berserker rage, the lust of pillage, the hubris of pride. I was overwhelmed when the people on the deck were overwhelmed, I jerked and thrashed as the insanity rolled off Callisto and into their brains, and only my hand across my mouth kept me from screaming as they did. I bit down hard and tasted my own blood.

It went on and on and on, the screaming, and then there were awful wet sounds.

Suddenly, it was over. I felt like a dancing puppet whose strings have suddenly been severed. I went limp. Eric scooped me up and laid me down on his car hood and suddenly he went absolutely still.

I opened my eyes to see the maenad standing next to Eric but focused more on me. She was smiling again, and she was drenched in blood. It was like someone had poured a bucket of red paint over her head; her hair was drenched, as was every bit of her bare body, and she reeked of the copper smell, enough to set your teeth on edge.

"You were close," she said to me, her voice as sweet and high as a flute. "You were very close. Maybe as close as you'll ever come, maybe not. I've never seen anyone maddened by the insanity of others. An entertaining thought."

"Entertaining for you, maybe," I gasped. Eric was staring down at the ground, but I saw him close his eyes at that. Uh-oh.

She laughed. "I like you, I really do. But it's time for me to go, darling. The world is full of woods and people that need to learn their lesson. People that owe me death and madness. I must be paid tribute, as you now know Mr. Northman. But this will do just fine," she said, in her sated voice.

She began to drift to the edge of the woods and then she was gone. Hopefully forever.

…

As soon as Eric was sure she was far enough away, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Right when I was about to ask what he was doing, I felt a tremendous surge of power come from him, even though his body hadn't moved, not even to open his eyes.

After a moment he straightened and looked over to check up on me. "I just called Pam," he explained when he took in my raised eyebrows.

I used two hands to steady myself upright into a seating position on the hood of his car. "What do you mean?"

"As her maker, I summoned her to me, if you will. In this scenario it's easier than physically calling and giving her directions to here. She can just sense where I am and follow that, like an internal GPS system."

"Oh. Why did you call her?"

He smiled wryly. "I'd say look around, but I don't want you to actually do that. I need help cleaning this up, torching the cabin."

I could still see Andy standing where Callisto had left him, and though he looked like he was sleeping standing up straight he was alive. But other than that, I couldn't see anyone else. I hoped Tara had survived in the makeshift shelter she had hid over.

Eric walked over to where the cabin was; even if I had been able to walk with him to do that, I wouldn't. I just lied back down on the hood of the car and closed my eyes. I had a terrible migraine from what just happened to me; I had never experienced that kind of pressure on my senses before, not even when I was little and hadn't yet learned to put up my shields.

Aside from Eric's purposeful footsteps coming from the deck and the odd object I heard him push or pull, it was silent. No crickets, no birds, nothing. I wondered if the maenad's madness subjected to the innocent woodland creatures as well.

Then, suddenly, I heard Pam. "What has happened, Eric? Sookie?" she asked all of a sudden, sounding like she was standing near the cabin. "And why do I smell maenad?"

I sat up and opened my eyes to see that she was standing in the path leading to the porch; she was wearing a skintight black leather dress with—though she would hate my description of them—stripper boots, looking more ready to attend a real orgy. Eric walked down the porch steps to stand next to her, so that they were now looking at the porch.

"It's a long story, Pam," he said, "but Callisto invited herself to the pitiful excuse of an orgy and this is what happened to it."

"Lovely," Pam sniffed, looking around. She did not sound pleased. "I suppose you need help cleaning up, Eric?"

Eric smirked. "Good thing you're only wearing Choos tonight."

His crack earned him a vampire punch to his arm, but neither Pam nor Eric seemed that affected. Indeed, in the next moment they got to work kicking aside body parts, and that was when I knew it was time for me to lay back down again and look up at the night sky.

"Ugh. I hate that maenad bitch. All this blood, and I'd have to get on my hands and knees to lick it up. What a waste," Pam bitched.

"Think about who you're talking to, Pam," Eric chided, "we _all _hate that maenad bitch."

After glancing at me, Pam was quiet after that, but not for long.

"He's still alive. Do we want to keep it that way?" she lazily asked after a few minutes, and I looked over to see she was holding up Eggs by the back of his neck, like he was a disobedient dog or something. He looked like he was sleeping.

"Sookie?" Eric asked from where he was standing on the opposite end of the porch, directing the responsibility to me. Like I wanted to play God.

"Yes, of course, Pam! Put him down!"

She shrugged and dragged him (even though she could have easily picked him up) and dropped him on the lawn with a heavy thud. Then she went back to the porch and started some more rearranging, and I knew that was my cue to look away.

"We'll have to burn the cabin," Eric said finally, sounding like he was lifting something heavy.

"Of course," Pam agreed.

Eric zoomed off into the woods and returned later with firewood. Crouching by the front door, he easily started up a natural-looking fire by using his vampire speed while rubbing two sticks together. Over on the porch Pam was counting bones when she randomly stiffened and looked over by the door.

"Here's another," she called out, and when I popped my head up I saw Tara running towards me.

"Tara! You're alive!" I called out, and Pam relaxed from her attack position. Eric looked up from the fire and once he took stock of the situation he simply went back to work, as did Pam.

I slowly got off of the car, so that by the time Tara reached me I was in a position to hug her and let her wail and sob on my shoulder. I only heard muffled phrases, mostly "I'm so stupid," and "Eggs" and "Can't believe it," but I just kept stroking her hair and patting her back.

Eric quietly walked over to us and pointed to his eye before pointing to Tara, cluing me in that he'd glamour her. Before I could reply Tara turned around and looked at him for a long time.

"You're Sookie's vampire boyfriend, aren't you? The one she bought the clothes for and went to Fangtasia for?" she said finally.

He exchanged a look with me before answering, "Yes, I am. Now, look—"

But Tara already turned back to me, wiping her eyes and babbling, "Geeze, Sookie, you did good. Much better than me—I mean, even Eggs was more into Eric than he was into me. That's why I started coming here, for Eggs. It was so stupid of me, but I liked him and he liked these parties. I wish I never came here."

"Tara," I said slowly, "If there was a way for you to forget about what happened tonight, would you want to?"

Her eyes widened. "You mean that vampire hypnosis thing?"

"Yes," Eric said from behind her, and she turned around to look at him before comically dropping her gaze to the floor.

"No," she replied in monotone, almost to herself, "I need to remember this. I need to remember whatever that weird woman was, and I need to remember what stupid shit I did for a man. Eggs wasn't worth it. No man is worth it."

"Think about it," Eric murmured. She kept her eyes on the ground, not looking anywhere near Eric.

He looked at me, and I nodded at Tara. He made a face and then cleared his throat and yelled, "Shit pancakes!" She snapped her head up to look at him and in that second he glamoured her.

"Shit pancakes?" Pam disbelievingly asked Eric, after she had snorted her appreciation of his outburst. I was giggling too, and looked to Eric for his response.

"It worked, didn't it?" he asked, nodding in Tara's direction. She was staring at him, mouth wide open.

"Who are you?" Tara asked Eric. After making a knowing face at me and Pam, he just turned and started walking back to the cabin without answering. Tara noticed me then and started talking to me about her store, and I let her.

"Done," Eric said after a minute, and I looked over Tara's shoulder to see that the side of the porch was up in flames and smoke. Pam was standing next to him, watching.

"Wouldn't it be faster if we started the fire in more than one place?" she asked. "I don't want to stay here any longer than what's completely necessary."

"Unfortunately not, Pam. The fire has to appear to be natural, and it might not if we do what you suggested."

"I hate these strides in police science," she replied. "Takes all the fun out."

"If we hadn't decided to go public, they'd have to blame it on one of them," Eric said. "But as it is, we are such attractive scapegoats . . . it's galling, when you think of how much stronger we are."

I was about to upbraid Eric for saying that when I was right behind him, but I was silenced by the sound of Andy's cell phone ringing in his pocket. In his semi-catatonic state, Andy didn't even notice. Didn't even open his eyes.

Eric and Pam had swiveled around to see where the noise was coming from, but now that they knew they weren't doing anything about it.

After the second ring, I gently let Tara go and strode over to where Andy was. Once again, he didn't respond. Disgustedly, I put my hand in my pocket and took the cell phone out as quickly as I could. The caller ID said it was his sister Portia.

"Hi, Portia, it's Sookie Stackhouse," I answered.

"Sookie? Where's Andy?"

"He's, um, a little busy at the moment. Say, do you know where Jan Fowler's lake house is?" I asked hopefully.

Startled, she replied that she did.

"Great. Um, Andy needs a ride home, so do you mind coming here and picking it up?"

"No, of course not. I'm right in that area, actually. I'll be there in five minutes. Don't let him do anything stupid."

_That's not possible_, I thought sourly. "Okay. Bye now."

I hung up and blinked twice when I realized Eric was standing next to me.

"Wake up," he whispered to Andy, like he was a hypnotist, but by golly, Andy actually did snap out of whatever little funk he was in. He looked over at me, confused that I wasn't still in his grasp, I guess. He saw Eric and flinched a little, maybe expecting retaliation for the way he had been treating me. Then Andy looked at Pam, but only for a normal amount of time before looking past her at the cabin.

"It's on fire," he said dumbly.

"They are all dead, except the two that are here. They weren't involved, and they don't remember anything from tonight."

"Then . . . these people did kill Lafayette? Fowler and Spencer and all 'em?"

"Yes," I said. "Those are the ones."

"But I haven't got any proof," Andy mourned.

"Oh, I think so," Pam called. She was looking down into the trunk of Mike Spencer's Lincoln.

We all moved to the car to see. The vampires' superior vision made it easy for them to tell there was blood in the trunk, blood and some stained clothes and a wallet. Eric reached down and carefully flipped the wallet open.

"Can you read whose it is?" Andy asked, trying to peek over Eric's bent shoulder.

"Lafayette Reynold," Eric said, showing it to me.

"So if we just leave the cars like this, and we leave, the police will find what's in the trunk and it'll all be over. I'll be clear," Andy said.

"Yeah. You're welcome," I said, not at all sarcastically.

"Thank you," Andy replied, sounding startled. He nodded at Pam and Eric, who didn't return it.

After a long, evaluating look Eric brushed past him and stomped over to where Eggs was lying unconscious on the lawn, Tara hovering over him worriedly. He bent down and whispered something in Eggs' ear, and a few seconds later Eggs woke up, stretching like it was morning. Eric walked over to where I was standing and put an arm around me; Pam came and stood on my other side.

Headlights filtered through the trees, and soon Portia Bellefleur's silver Audi pulled up next to us. "Oh my God," she gasped, running out of the car and enveloping Andy in a big bear hug. After a moment, he put his arms around her.

"We need to go," Andy said to Portia. He looked over at me and said, "Thank you for believing in me, Sookie."

"Yes, thank you for helping Andy," Portia breathed. "Bye now."

"I wasn't helping Andy. I was helping Lafayette," I snapped.

She took a deep breath. "Of course," she said, with some dignity. "He was your coworker."

"He was my _friend_," I corrected.

Her back straightened as she stiffly replied, "Your friend."

The fire was catching in the cabin now, and soon there would be police and firefighters. It was definitely time to leave.

I noticed neither Eric nor Pam offered to remove any memories from Andy or Portia.

"You better get out of here," I said to Andy. "You need to drive Tara and Eggs back to her house, and then you better go back to your house, with Portia, and tell your grandma to swear you were there all night."

"But Eggs' car's here," Tara said suddenly. "And I think I can drive me and Eggs home."

I looked over at Eric for his opinion, and he just shrugged his shoulders. "Okay," I said, "Here, take my sweater."

I took it off and handed it to her, and she accepted gratefully; she was just in her lingerie, and Eggs had boxers on. But it didn't matter because they fled to Eggs's pick-up truck and followed Portia's Audi back into town.

"Good riddance," Pam said. "Eric, are we done here?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I'm going home." She took a step forward, and then turned around. "Sookie, I'm sorry I didn't say this earlier, but you look good enough to eat."

"As always, thanks Pam," I said, crossing my arms before thinking of the effect that would have on my exposed chest; once I did, I dropped my pose as fast as I could. As she laughed Eric zoomed over to the Corvette and came back a second later to hold his trench coat out to me. I shrugged in it, and by the time I had both of my arms through the very long sleeves Pam was gone.

"Finally, we can go home now," I breathed.

Eric chuckled and gestured to his Corvette. "It's getting early. Maybe we could stay at your place tonight?"

"Sure. I can't wait to get away from here."

"Me too."

…

**A/N: All we have left is to see the queen … duh duh duh! **


	58. Chapter 58

**A/N: Hey, hello, hi. It's afalcone10. It's Dead to My World. And it's been a really, really, really, long time since this story has updated, and I'm sorry for that. **

**First year at college didn't leave a lot of alone time to flesh out plot lines and just sit down and write something that wouldn't be graded. But it's summer now and my job isn't that time-consuming, so I feel confident in saying you won't have to wait long for this story to end. In fact, I only see there being one other chapter, 59, and then—BAM—that's it. I feel kind of stupid for leading you guys on for so long when there was only two chapters left, but I did anyway. I still want to make a companion story about Eric's POV from Dead to My World (Dead to Your World) and I've started brainstorming for that, so there's going to be more afalcone10 updates than there has been in a long while.**

**Thanks to my beta chiisai-kitty, who had to start beta-ing and reading all my emails quite a lot after some static time. She did an awesome job welcoming me back to the ease of writing and fanfiction.**

**And thanks, most of all, to you guys. Thanks for sticking with me on this bumpy ride. Thanks for sending me PMs that I only now have just seen because I disabled email alerts from them. Thanks for caring, really. **

**Because I know I had to go back and read this whole story, I'm going to give a little summary of everything that's happened so far:**

**Sookie Stackhouse, our favorite telepathic waitress, had her life flipped up, down, and all around when she spotted an amnesiac vampire running down her world. Together they figured out he's Eric Northman, a smart and wealthy thousand-year-old Viking vampire who is the owner of a nightclub Fangtasia, among other enterprises, and the Sheriff of Area 5, a position of great power in Louisiana. He was cursed by a coven of witches when he refused to give in to their blackmail, which is why he can't remember anything of his former life, including Pam, his sassy yet loveable child that helps him with Fangtasia while simultaneously being fabulous. Sookie agrees to house Eric and keep him safe from the supernatural community in his weakened, but still very attractive and hot, state, and a romance blossoms between the two. Eric takes Sookie's virginity and—when Eric's curse is revoked and he can remember everything except for the time he spent with Sookie—her heart. Eric tries his best to figure out what Sookie is like behind her back—including watching old security footage of them, interrogating everyone who encountered them during his amnesia period, visiting her house late at night—but can only understand who she really is when they stop arguing and start getting along. Slowly but surely their relationship starts to heat up again, especially when a vampire, Bill Compton, mysteriously moves next door to Sookie and starts asking questions. Eric finds out Bill has been sent by the Queen of Louisiana, Sophie-Anne, to seduce Sookie and bring her to New Orleans to live as the queen's telepathic pet. He also discovers Sookie is part fairy, with a powerful fairy-prince named Niall Brigant as her great-grandfather. Eric persuades the queen to let him take Bill's place as the procurer of Sookie, and she agrees; Eric and Sookie decide it will take a long time for him to turn her in. But when Eric gains national fame for catching a serial killer targeting women who've slept with women, he uses it as a bargaining chip to act as Sookie's agent, negotiating payments and assignments for Sookie without her having to leave her house and her freedom behind. The trial period for this starts with a trip to Dallas to find a missing vampire, but before that happens Sookie is scratched by a random yet powerful maenad and needs a special supernatural doctor to heal her. When Eric realizes how much he loves Sookie when he thinks she's going to die, he suddenly remembers everything that happened between them and the curse truly is reversed; instead of it being that he stayed with his heart's desre without knowing who he was, the curse was that he wouldn't remember his heart's desire when he knew who he was. When Sookie is healed the couple begin their romance again, and they travel to Dallas. When Sookie is taken captive by an anti-vampire extremist group, Eric sneaks in and saves her and the vampire she found, proving she is capapble of working as a freelance telepath for the queen. And ... yeah, I think that covers everything you need to know!**

**...**

I realized I loved Eric more than anything when he tried his best not to interfere with all of my nervous calm-me-down motions that I'd been doing ever since he parked his car in front of the fancy French restaurant we were eating at tonight, Les Deux Poissons. I smoothed the fly-aways in my hair, reapplied my lip gloss twice, closed my eyes, put down the mirror to check my makeup, and counted to ten, and all the while he sat in his seat looking out the windshield for appearances only, when we both knew he was watching me out of the corner of my eye. God bless him though, he didn't make a sound. Not breathing kind of helped him cover that base, though.

It was Saturday night—Date Night, in fact. And yes, we were planning on going to dinner, but we were planning on going to dinner with my fairy great-grandfather. You know, the one that Eric hadn't seen in hundreds in years. The one who's not on Earth often. Yeah. That one.

I wasn't scared of this fairy prince, but I was scared of what he'd say to me, and what he'd think of me.

Though Eric had arranged this meeting and I knew that I needed to go to it, I really didn't want to go to it. Niall had a lot of explaining to do, and I wasn't so sure I wanted the answers.

It's hard enough hearing that your beloved grandmother had an affair, but I knew I was about to find out that it's even harder when a complete stranger is the one telling you about it.

"Okay. I'm ready. Let's get this over with," I finally announced to Eric, turning to look at him.

His eyes scanned my face for a moment before he reached over and unbuckled my seat belt for me. "Very well," he murmured before leaning over even more and giving me a quick, reassuring kiss before he unfolded his large frame from his tiny sports car.

In a flash, he was over on my side, opening the door and extending a hand to help me out of my seat. I took it and smoothed my skirt once he shut the door behind me. I was wearing one of my fancy Dallas suits and black heels. Sure, I looked like I was going to meet my attorney instead of my great-grandfather, but I've also seen my attorney more times than my great-grandfather.

Eric was dressed in a grey suit with a black shirt underneath, two buttons undone. It was one of my favorite Business Eric looks, and he knew it. His hair was intricately braided, something else he knew I was fond of.

"I'd say we don't have to do this, but we actually have to," he said. I reached out blindly behind me for his hand and he took it, easily falling in stride with me as we walked to the front of the restaurant.

He ran his thumb absently across my palm, and I was surprised to find out there was a direct line from my palm to, well, my hootchie.

Eric stopped me, a hand on the door handle, as he stood in front of me. In the warm golden light streaming down from the lamp, his usually pale skin looked every bit as golden as his hair, like he had a California sun tan that defied his vampireness.

"Sookie, you know how … appetizing the scent of a fairy is for me. I think I will be able to control myself, but in case I'm not I will fake a phone call and duck out. I won't leave here though, I promise."

"Sure. I understand," I replied.

I could do this on my own. I knew Eric had taken a lot of blood—both from my neck and two bags of human blood—to satiate his thirst before this dinner, but he'd said that fairies as old and pure as Niall would have a particularly enticing smell. And to announce that to a man as powerful as Niall would be embarrassing for him, on top of that.

He smiled, a little sadly, and brought my hand he was holding up to his lips. Though he didn't breathe, I felt his breath on my skin. I didn't know if my hair stood up from the coldness of it or because it was Eric's breath. After a moment he released his lips and opened the door for me.

We stepped into the lobby, where there was a little marble fountain and a black Asian-looking dressing screen that blocked the view of the diners. I could see why Eric said this was his preferred meeting place with important clients of all natures.

The woman, a human by the signature of her brain, standing at the podium was beautiful, with long black hair and a swishy brown dress that matched the color of her skin, giving her the appearance of greeting us in her birthday suit. She smiled brilliantly at Eric and had the sense to give me a share of that smile.

"A party of two?" she asked, already reaching for the menus.

"We have a reservation, under Brigant," Eric explained.

"My mistake, sir. He's already here. Right this way, please." Her smile replaced by a look almost of envy, she turned and walked gracefully into the depths of the restaurant. Eric gestured for me to follow her and I did, but not before giving him a look. He shrugged and swatted at my ass, and with a nervous glance around at the well-to-do diners, I followed the hostess.

The interior was fairly dark, with the light being even darker and warmer than it was outside. Candles flickered romantically on the tables, which were covered with snowy white cloths and elaborately folded napkins. From what I could see, all of the dishes were small, but beautifully decorated—like the cooks wanted to distract you from seeing how little food you got for such a big price.

My eyes were on the plates, so when the hostess came to a halt, I didn't immediately recognize that she'd stopped at the secluded wooden booth where we were to sit. She stepped aside, revealing an elderly man with beautiful, long golden hair that went way past his slim shoulders.

Niall.

He was wearing a navy suit with a lilac dress shirt and a matching purple pocket square. His eyes were what my old Crayola box would call "shamrock green," and his face didn't look as old as Eric's stories revealed him to be. In fact, his face was as wrinkleless and smooth as a baby's.

The hostess spun on her high heel and told us our server would be with us, leaving quickly when no introductions were made between the old man—Niall, I thought to myself—and us.

Once she left, Niall rose to his feet—not an easy thing to do while sitting in a booth, but he managed to do it elegantly and easily—and after I glanced back at Eric and he gave me a reassuring nod, I slipped in the booth. Eric slid in after me, and Niall timed it perfectly so he sat down at the same time we did.

The beautiful man was looking at me intently. "Good evening, child, Northman," he said genially, nodding at each of us when he said our names. Well, Eric's last name. My … status, in his eyes? Well.

"Niall," Eric said, doing the man-nod too. But Niall barely noticed, because his eyes were focused on mine.

"Hello, great-grandfather," I said, trying the words out to see what they meant now that I had a face—and what a face—to put with the name.

Lots of kids in our neck of the woods call their grandfathers "Papaw." Somehow, I didn't think Niall would be one of those men.

"Thank you for meeting with me. I must say, Northman, I rather enjoy the restaurant," he said casually.

"Yes, Les Deux has a fine menu for all species," Eric smoothly replied, opening up the menu to the blood list.

_Enough with the chitchat_, I thought stubbornly. Right then, the waiter came to inquire after our drink orders and recite the specials of the day, and I realized the two men had heard him approaching before I did. Touché.

Niall ordered a bottle of wine and Eric a glass of blood. The waiter, who was a Were, then went on to discuss the types of blood, and Eric decided on a virgin's blood with mandarin oranges. Apparently the mysterious donor just ate mandarin oranges for three days, and it made me wonder about the one who supplied the lilac blood, or the cinnamon blood. I'd have to ask Eric later. Maybe not.

I ordered the steak-frites platter and Niall ordered the salmon; he had tried to order for me, but I was having none of that. And judging by the smirk Eric gave me the next time we made eye contact after that moment, he was having none of that as well.

Because the waiter was a supe, I would have expected him to be curious about the vampire, the fairy, and the human who sat down for dinner, but from his gazes and hazy brain pattern I determined that I seemed to be of more interest. I attributed that to the waiter's youth and my boobs. Guess they still had some power even under my blouse and blazer.

"So I hear my great-granddaughter has been receiving a lot of attention," Niall said, more to Eric than to me, once the waiter left.

"Mostly all unwelcome attention," I clarified, squeezing Eric's thigh under the table. "But before we go into that, I'd like to hear your story, and how you are related to me."

I felt Eric push calmness through the bond, and I saw him look over at me for a moment before looking back across the table at Niall, who looked a little surprised.

"There's fairy in your blood, all right," he said vaguely before taking a sip of water. I watched his throat bob as he swallowed and added, "Let's start at the beginning, as far as you're concerned. Otherwise we'd be here all night, and that would be unfair to Northman."

I glanced around so I wouldn't be staring at him every second, and I noticed a strange thing: no one was looking at us but our waiter. I mean, not even a casual glance strayed our way. And no human brains in the room were even registering our presence.

Niall waited for me to stop before he started, "It started about five or six hundred years ago, but I still remember it with great clarity and happiness. You see, I saw a beautiful young woman in the woods one day, and her name was Einin."

He was silent for a moment, obviously lost in a place he hadn't visited in a while.

"I was young enough to be infatuated, young enough to be able to ignore the inevitable end of our connection as she aged and I did not. But Einin got pregnant, which was a shock. Fairies and humans don't crossbreed often. Einin gave birth to twins, which is quite common among the fae. Einin and both boys lived through the birthing, which in those times was far from certain. She called our older son Fintan. The second was Dermot," he explained.

The waiter brought our wine and Eric his blood, and I was jerked out of the spell Niall's voice had laid on me. It was like we'd been sitting around a campfire in the woods listening to an ancient legend, and then _snap!_ we were in a modern restaurant in Shreveport and there were other people around who had no idea what was going on.

I automatically lifted my glass and took a sip of wine. I felt I was entitled. Eric took his goblet and swished it around a little, like it was real wine, before taking a sip.

"Fintan was your paternal grandfather, Sookie," Niall said slowly.

"The one who had an affair with my grandmother," I said a little shakily.

"Yes, Adele. Tell me, what was she like?" Niall asked.

"She raised me when she didn't have to," I said fiercely. "She took me and Jason into her home, and she worked hard to raise us right. We learned everything from her. She loved us. She had two children herself and buried them both, and that must have about killed her, but still she was strong for us."

"She was beautiful when she was young," Niall agreeably replied.

His green eyes lingered on my face as if he were trying to find some trace of her beauty in her granddaughter. I'd often heard that we looked alike, and I always saw the connection when I looked at her wedding pictures but had attributed that to my wanting it to be true. I wondered if there was a trace of his son on my features too—maybe the character of my nose or the set of my cheekbones.

"She was beautiful her whole life, inside and out," I said, a little sharply. I still loved her, despite what she had done, and I guess it carried out in my tone. Eric squeezed my hand warningly under the table. We exchanged looks, and his silent but steady demeanor calmed me.

"I saw her after Fintan made her pregnant," Niall explained. "She was lovely. Her husband had told her he could not give her children. He'd had mumps at the wrong time. That's a disease, isn't it?"

I nodded, wheels turning in my head. If Grandpa knew he couldn't have kids, didn't he ever wonder where his came from?

"She met Fintan one day when she was beating a rug out on the clothesline, in back of the house where you now live. He asked her for a drink of water. He was smitten on the spot. She wanted children so badly, and he promised her he could give them to her."

"You said fairies and people weren't usually fertile when they crossbreed," Eric said, the first words he'd uttered since story time began.

"But Fintan was only half fairy. And he already knew that he was able to give a woman a child." Niall's mouth quirked down at the side. "The first woman he loved died in childbirth, but your grandmother and her son were more fortunate, and then two years later she was able to carry Fintan's daughter to completion."

_To completion_. Like she was a science experiment or something. Hmmph.

"What was your father like, my grandson?" Niall asked.

I wanted to ask him what his own damn son was like, since he kept asking about my family. But I held my tongue and answered him. "He was a handsome guy. He was a hard worker, and a good dad."

Niall smiled slightly. "How did your mother feel about him?"

That question cut sharply into my warm memories of my father, and I knew Eric picked up on it by the way he was looking at me when I replied, "She, ah, she was really devoted to him."

_Maybe at the expense of her children._

"Obsessed?" Niall said, sounding and looking like he knew the answer but still wanted me to say it. I appreciated that he didn't sound judgmental.

"I guess, in a way everyone thought was normal or cute, for a married couple. She really wanted to give him all her attention. Sometimes Jason and I were in the way. And she was really jealous, I remember."

I tried to look amused, as if my mother being so jealous of my father was a charming quirk.

"It was the fairy in him that made her hold on so strongly," Niall said confidently. "It takes some humans that way. She saw the supernatural in him, even though she probably didn't know what it was, and it enthralled her. Tell me, was she a good mother?"

"She tried hard," I whispered. Under the table, Eric's thumb started rubbing small circles on the back of my hand, and I tried to focus on that.

My mother, bless her soul, had really tried her best. My mother had known how to be a good mother theoretically. She knew how a good mother acted toward her children. She'd made herself go through all the motions. But all her true love had been saved for my father, who'd been bemused by the intensity of her passion. I could see that now, as an adult. As a child, I'd been confused and hurt. Maybe I still was, on account of how I was foolishly trying to blink back tears in front of two men with supernatural sight and sound. It was kind of Niall and Eric not to say anything.

The Were waiter brought our salad and set it down in front of us, and also replaced Eric's empty goblet with another. He wanted to ask us if we needed anything else, but he was too scared, having picked up on the atmosphere at the table. Smart man.

Taking advantage of the lull in conversation, I decided to ask the question I needed to. It wasn't going to be about Fintan, though.

"How long have you known about me?" I asked casually, letting go of Eric's leg to put my napkin in my lap and take up my fork.

I wasn't in the mood for food, but I knew I needed to eat. Wasting was not part of the way I'd been raised. By my grandmother. Who'd had sex with a half fairy who'd wandered into the yard like a stray dog, tail between his legs after he'd tried to have kids with another woman. Enough sex over enough time to produce two children.

"I've known about your family for the past sixty years, give or take. But my son Fintan forbade me seeing any of you."

He carefully put a bit of tomato into his mouth, held it there, thought about it, chewed it. He ate the way I would if I was visiting an Indian or Nicaraguan restaurant—testing everything, trusting nothing.

"What changed?" I asked, but then I figured it out and answered myself before Niall did. "Your son is dead now."

"Yes," he said, and put down the fork. "Fintan is dead. After all, he was half human. And he'd lived for seven hundred years."

"Would you have sought me out, if Eric didn't contact you about me?" I asked.

"Probably. Eventually. I'm old, even for my kind. I would like to know you. I can't atone for the way your life has been shaped by the heritage Fintan gave you. But I will try to make your life a little easier, if you'll permit me. I've never met Sophie-Anne, but I've heard that is a good thing. From what I've heard about her, I don't want her having anything to do with you, even though I've only just met you."

"Do I get three wishes too, or is that with genies?" I asked, trying to make a joke. Niall was inspecting me, it felt like, and I was cracking under his gaze.

Eric smiled politely, but Niall was having none of that "You wouldn't want to meet a genie," he said seriously, "and I'm not a figure of fun. I am a prince."

"Sorry," I said. Better not joke about him being a fairy prince, then.

"Sophie-Anne is quite the drama queen, and she is sparing no expenses with Sookie," Eric spoke up, quickly filling the awkward silence.

"Yes, I was wondering about that. Explain this to me again," Niall replied. I thought he sounded like he was asking Eric to tell him a funny story that he had forgotten most of the details about.

"She sent a young vampire out to Bon Temps to seduce Sookie in the hopes of taking her to the queen's palace in New Orleans, where she would live and work as the queen's personal telepath and pet," Eric said.

Niall's eyes wandered over to me, and I swallowed my cucumber uneasily. "Go on," he murmured.

"Things became complicated when he meet Sookie for the first time—which occurred, I must add, when she saved him from drainers. He smelled me on her and she thought I sent him, so of course he told the queen of the recent developments. They hadn't figured me into their plans, but I put myself there."

"How so?" Niall took a sip of wine, eyes now on Eric.

He didn't ask how we met, and Eric didn't tell. Whether this was because Eric had already told him or he simply didn't care, I wasn't sure.

"I went in front of the queen and asked to replace the young vampire on Sookie's case. Because we had already swapped blood and were intimately acquainted at that point, it would have been stupid for Sophie-Anne to refuse, and she didn't. After a hard bargain and much debate, I arranged that if Sookie were to be the queen's telepath, she'd do it without being her pet and without living in her house. And as an added bonus, she'd be paid handsomely for her work, and I would be her manager, overseeing her work schedule and salary."

Eric sounded proud, and he had every right to. I was proud of him, too.

"Sounds like you've got this all figured out then," Niall said slowly, looking like a lion sizing up his prey. "Why did you feel the need to involve me?"

"For starters, I wanted to make sure the queen had done her homework and that Sookie really was related to you, which we all now know to be true," Eric said fiercely. "I thought maybe you might want to meet the carrier of your line, and that you might want to help and protect her to make up for lost time, and certain instances of the past."

"Which I will, of course," Niall said. "I will do anything for you, Sookie, though I can't give you three wishes." He smiled, and he was so beautiful in that moment I couldn't help but smile back.

"Thank you," I said.

He passionately continued, "I will pledge my allegiance to Sookie, and indirectly to you, Northman. If the queen harms or does anything to Sookie, she will have me and all of my people to answer to. You can make that known to her. I do not wish to wage war, but I also do not want my family, no matter how distant or unfamiliar, to be treated unfairly or badly. You have my word."

Eric dipped his head, and I knew then that Niall's offering was much more than pretty words. Blood ran deeper than water, I guess, especially when that blood is fairy blood.

"Thank you, Niall. That is all I wanted from you," Eric said graciously, and with much poise.

"Yes, great-grandfather, thank you very much," I said, reaching over to lightly pat Niall's hand that was resting on the table. He flipped his hand over and threaded his fingers through mine.

Thankfully no one commented on the fact that I was holding hands with both people on the table, making it look like we were playing blob-tag, my favorite game as a child but one I could never play due to the increased skin contact. Good thing the food hadn't come yet.

"Of course, my child," he replied.

"I still want to hear about Fintan," I admitted.

"Of course. It's only natural. Fintan loved you, in his own way. You went many years without being found, in part because that was what Fintan wanted."

"But he watched me?" I almost felt warmth in my heart at hearing that.

"My son was remorseful that he'd condemned two children to the existence he'd experienced as a fairy who wasn't truly a fairy. I'm afraid the others of our race weren't kind to him." My great-grandfather's gaze was steady. "I did my best to defend him, but it wasn't enough. Fintan also found he wasn't human enough to pass as human, at least not for more than a short time."

"You don't look like this normally?" I asked, very curious.

He looked at Eric and then answered, "No." And just for a split second, I saw an almost blinding light, with Niall in the middle of it, beautiful and perfect. No wonder Einin had thought he was an angel. Eric had his head down the whole time, and I wondered if that meant something. I hoped Niall's exposing his true nature didn't make the scent come about.

Eric tipped back his goblet, finishing his blood. I looked around for the waiter, but I couldn't find him. I still couldn't believe after Niall's little show no one was looking our way.

"But enough about this," Niall said once my focus went back into our secluded little booth. . "I want to know about you. My son kept me from your father and your aunt, and then from their children. His death came too late for me to know your cousin Hadley. But now I can see you and touch you."

Which, incidentally, Niall was still doing, after all that time. He had let go when he became himself, but now his hand was grasping mine, firmly and hotly. Since I couldn't get telepathic vibes from fairies, this much contact was tolerable. With a regular human being, I'd be bombarded with thoughts, since touch increased my sensitivity to telepathic contact.

Just then the waiter came with our food, and Eric got up to excuse himself. I thought he was gonna go out with a phone call, but he came up with a more believable reason.

"And with that, I'll let you two have your private time that Niall wants so desperately, now that we've got certain items out of the way. I'll come back in a half hour or so," Eric said, standing tall.

"Okay, honey," I said, looking up at him. He didn't miss my term of endearment, and neither did Niall. But I had to say, he looked considerably more pleased about it than my great-grandfather did.

It must have been the light thing that made Eric hypersensititve, and he knew, as I now did too, that Niall did it on purpose.

"Very well, Northman," Niall said simply, picking up a fork and inspecting his plate. If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't have been able to tell if he knew that Eric was leaving because of his intoxicating aroma, or if it was because he truly wanted to give us more alone time.

The steak was good—as it should be, for the price it was. But I picked the wrong food to eat while having a conversation.

"Did Fintan have any other children or grandchildren?" I asked in between chews. It would be nice to have more family.

"We'll talk of that later," Niall briskly replied, which sent up an immediate red flag.

I must have let my surprise show, because he explained, "I want to keep our relationship a secret. I am so glad to know you finally, and I want to know you better." He laid his hand against my cheek. "But I have powerful enemies, and I wouldn't want them to think of harming you to get at me."

I nodded. I understood. But it was kind of deflating to have a brand-new relative and be forbidden to talk about him.

"What about Jason?" I asked. "Are you gonna talk to him, too?"

"Jason," he said, his face showing some distaste that immediately ruffled my feathers. "Somehow the essential spark passed Jason by. I know he is made of the same material as you, but in him the blood has only shown itself in his ability to attract lovers, which after all is not much recommendation. He wouldn't understand or appreciate our connection."

Great-grandfather sounded pretty snotty when he said that. I started to say something in Jason's defense, but then I closed my mouth. I had to admit to my most secret self that Niall was almost certainly right. Jason would be full of demands, and he would talk.

"How often are you going to be around?" I said instead, striving hard to sound nonchalant. I knew I was expressing myself clumsily, but I didn't know how else to establish some framework for this new and awkward relationship.

"I'll try to visit you like any other relative would," he said.

I tried hard to picture that. Niall and I visiting Gran's grave? Sharing a pew at church on Christmas mass? I didn't think so.

"I feel like there's a lot you're not telling me," I said bluntly.

"Then we'll have something to talk about next time," he said, and winked at me. Okay, that was unexpected. He handed me a business card, another thing I didn't anticipate. It said simply, "Niall Brigant," with a telephone number centered beneath. It had four digits. "You can reach me at that number any time. Someone will answer."

"Thanks," I said. "I guess you know my phone number? And Eric's?"

He nodded.

Just then the waiter came to clear our plates, and we silently watched him before resuming our conversation.

"So," I began, clearing my throat. "What do you do all day? What's it like being the fairy prince?"

I can't tell you how strange and neat it felt to be with a family member. I only had Jason, and he wasn't exactly a close brother, the kind you told everything to. I could count on him in a pinch, but hanging out together? Not going to happen.

I know he answered my question, but when I tried to recall it afterward to tell Eric I couldn't come up with something specific. I guess he did some secret fairy-prince glamouring that I apparently was susceptible to. But goddamnit, I thought we were family.

He did tell me he had part ownership in a bank or two, a company that made lawn furniture, and—and this seemed odd to me—a company that created and tested experimental medicine.

I looked at him doubtfully.

"Medicine for humans," I said, to be sure I understood.

Vampires obviously thought humans were only marginally above dirt for feeding purposes only, and I would have assumed that fairies felt the same way. Obviously not.

"Yes. For the most part," he responded. "But my chemists make special things for us."

_Aha. _"For the fae."

He nodded, fine corn-silk hair falling around his face as his head moved. "There is so much iron now," he said. "I don't know if you realize that we are very sensitive to iron? And yet if we wear gloves every moment, we're too conspicuous in today's world."

I looked at his right hand as it lay over mine on the white tablecloth. I extracted my fingers, stroked his skin. It felt oddly smooth.

"It's like an invisible glove," I said, feeling stupid for not realizing this earlier. God knows we had enough contact for me to have the opportunity to feel it.

"Exactly." He nodded. "One of their formulas. But enough about me."

_Just when it was getting interesting, _I thought. But I could see that my great-grandfather had no real reason to trust me with all his secrets yet.

Niall asked me about my job, and my boss, and my routine, like a real great-grandfather would. Though he clearly didn't like the idea of his great-granddaughter working, the bar part of it didn't seem to disturb him. As I've said, Niall wasn't easy to read. His thoughts were his own as far as I was concerned, but I did notice that every now and then he stopped himself from speaking.

Eventually, I glanced at my watch, astounded at how much time had passed. Where was Eric? I excused myself, thanking my great-grandfather for the meal and very hesitantly leaning forward to kiss his cheek as he'd kissed mine. He seemed to hold his breath while I did so, and his skin felt soft and lustrous as a silky plum under my lips.

"You love Eric, don't you," he asked quietly, looking into my eyes for the answer too.

"I do. And he loves me too," I replied. "We're very happy together now."

"I had planned on asking if you wanted me to break the bond or get rid of him, but I see now that's not necessary," he offered.

"Correct, that's completely unnecessary. And quite frankly, I don't know what I'd do without him," I said, trying to hold back my anger. Niall might have thought it was a sweet gesture, but I considered it hostile. I had given him no indication whatsoever that I wanted Eric to be gone, and all of the progress he'd made with connecting with me this dinner vanished after his offer.

Now I really wanted to go.

Eric, from where he was outside, started pushing more calmness towards me, bless him. He must have felt my anger.

Niall politely stood when I left, but he remained at the table—to take care of the bill, I assumed.

Eric was waiting for me in the parking lot. He'd had some True Blood while he was waiting, and he'd been reading in the car, which was parked under a light.

Niall had been able to mask the fairy odor from Eric in the restaurant, except for when he did his fairy light show piece, but I saw from the flare of Eric's nostrils that the intoxicating scent clung to me. Eric's eyes closed in ecstasy, and he actually licked his lips. I felt like a T-bone just out of reach of a hungry dog.

I didn't realize how nerve-wracking my dinner with Niall had been until I was out of his presence. Though I'd been sitting in a comfortable chair the whole meal, I was as tired as if we'd been talking while we were running. And now that I was in a small, enclosed space with Eric, I felt even more exhausted.

"I'm going to need another True Blood," he said, more to himself than to me.

But I stopped his hand from delving down into the cooler that had been filled with more bottles of blood earlier in the evening.

"You could have mine, if you wanted," I offered shyly, brushing my hair away from my neck.

Eric looked at it for a long while before shaking my hand free and picking up a blood bag.

"I'd like that, very much. But I can wait to do it in a more private place. I had been working myself down from being in that restaurant, and with another blood I should be able to restrain myself," he explained. "I want to be able to savor it."

That didn't stop him from driving even faster the way home. I was glad no cars were on the road and that it was so dark out because that meant I couldn't really judge how fast we were moving. I knew it was silly of me to worry because his senses were so keen, but I worried all the same.

Earlier, on the drive over, he had offered to go over what he knew about fairies with me, but I had been flustered enough already and didn't want to be burdened any more. But now, I thought I could handle the information, and I asked him to tell me everything.

As he sped down a long—and thankfully, straight—road, Eric started talking. "They're lovely, male and female both. Incredibly tough and ferocious. They aren't immortal, but they live a very long time unless something happens to them—you heard how long Fintan lived for, and he was a half-breed."

He continued, "They get more intoxicating with age, so Niall was very, very appealing. He is powerful in the fairy world. If he's sincere in his desire to take you under his wing, you're both very lucky and very unlucky."

"Eric, he asked if I wanted him to get rid of you," I admitted quietly.

Eric didn't ask if I took his deal. He already knew the answer.

"Is that what made you so mad?" he asked, and I nodded.

"I thought he might do that," Eric added after a moment. "At least he had the decency to wait until I left the table. Fairies are very forceful and bloodthirsty, and it would have been uncharacteristic of him and his race if he didn't try."

"Yep, that's my family," I deadpanned.

"Niall's a survivor, and he's done that because of his ruthlessness and viciousness. There were once thousands of fairies in just the United States alone," Eric said. "Now there are only hundreds. But the ones that are left are very determined survivors, though there won't be any fairy revelation soon."

I thought about the two groups, the vampires and the fairies. The vampires seemed more obviously powerful—after all, they preyed on fairies, and from what Eric told me there were a great deal more of them, and counting.

Plus, vampires—at least in America—were definitely on the increase. There were three bills wending their way through Congress dealing with vampire immigration. America had the distinction (along with Canada, Japan, Norway, Sweden, England, and Germany) of being a country that had responded to the Great Revelation with relative calm.

The night of the carefully orchestrated Great Revelation, vampires all over the world had appeared on television, radio, in person, whatever the best means of communication in the area might be, to tell the human population, "Hey guys! Turns out we actually do exist. But we're not life threatening, we promise! The new Japanese synthetic blood absolutely satisfies our nutritional requirements."

The six years since then, especially these last couple of months, had been one big learning curve. Tonight I'd added a huge amount to my store of supernatural lore.

"So the vampires have the upper hand," I said.

"We're not at war," Eric said quickly. "We haven't been at war for centuries."

"So in the past the vampires and the fairies have fought each other? I mean, like, pitched battles?"

"Yes," Eric said. "And if Niall is telling the truth, he would do it again if Sophie-Anne did anything against you. She's fought against the fae like I have, and because of that I have a hankering she would be more inclined not to piss Niall off. After all, she's shrewd and smart when she wants to be."

"Good."

"Very."

By this time, Eric was in Bon Temps. I looked out the window at the familiar gas station and softly asked, "Hey, Eric?"

"Yes?"

"Um … you know how Fintan lived to be 700 years old, and he was a half fairy?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering … I know my dad died way too young in a freak accident, but he was a quarter fairy. I'm an eighth fairy. So, am I supposed to live a long time like he is?"

Eric stopped at a stop sign, and for longer than the mandatory three seconds. Since it was really late, I wasn't too worried about traffic. No, I was worried about something bigger, and Eric could tell.

"I'm glad you brought this up, Sookie, because I was thinking about this too after I left the dinner. Maybe not 700 years, and maybe not even half of that, but I have to believe that you'd live much longer than the average human, maybe more when coupled with the benefits you have from taking my blood. I have to."

"Jason too?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

I cleared my throat and said, "Niall gave me his business card tonight, with his phone number. He said someone would always be there to pick up for me."

Eric drove forward, without saying anything. We were getting pretty close to the road going to my house.

I continued, "I don't think I'm going to call him tonight."

"Why not?"

"I need to think over what he's already told me tonight."

"That makes sense," Eric said. He looked over at me and smiled.

I squeezed his hand hard. "But Eric, I want you to know that even with the extra years that may or not be added to my life thanks to my fairy heritage, I would still want you to turn me in case something bad happened to me. And also … in case something bad didn't happen to me."

Eric quickly pulled the car off the road and waited until he did that to reply. At first, his reply was to just look at me, really look at me, and then it was to grin. And _then_ it was to vampire-rush out his door, open mine, and rip me out of my seat to envelop me in a bear hug so tight I could feel the love transferring from him to me.

He didn't even seem to notice, or care, that he had broken the seatbelt right off of me.

It'd been much too long since I saw him smile like that or, hell, since I smiled like I was smiling—or trying to, since Eric kept kissing me over and over again and I was fervently returning the favor, clinging to him as my head twisted to the right then the left, trying to find the best angle to deepen the kiss and be closer to him.

Sometimes, I learned, you don't get much of a reaction out of Eric, but when you do, you really do.

"We should continue doing this inside my house," I breathed against Eric's cheek as he sucked on my neck. My hands seemed to have a mind of their own, and right now they were thinking of doing naughty things to Eric that shouldn't be done in public.

"You're sure of this?" Eric asked, and it took me a second to realize that he was questioning me about furthering what we were doing.

I hadn't really felt "in the mood," so to speak, since Dallas, and we had agreed to keep things at a snail-like pace. But I felt so safe and secure with Eric, both literally in his arms and symbolically in the trusting relationship that I wanted to expand on, that I knew that not only could I further what we were doing, but I would be happy doing it too.

"Yeah," I whispered, and before I knew it Eric was speed-running us to my house. Granted, it wasn't that far away, even for him, but it was almost like he didn't want to let go of me or the moment. And he didn't.

Eric didn't even release me to let me unlock the door, but maybe that's because I didn't have my keys with me (they were in my purse, in Eric's car) and the spare key was too far away. He ended up kicking the door inside and promising, "Don't worry, there'll be a new one tomorrow," as he sped up the stairs into my bedroom. This whole time I had been sucking on his earlobe, and it must have really been doing a number on him.

Despite the brute force he had used to break the door, he very carefully and tenderly laid me down on my bed, and then quickly covered his body with mine and looked down at me, mere inches away from my face.

"Hi," I whispered, propping myself up on my arms to close the gap between us and kiss him.

"Hi," he replied in between kisses.

We kissed for a lot longer, lazily and sloppily. Maybe Eric thought would be easier for me, and give me a chance to back out if I wanted to. I just thought of it as really good foreplay, especially when his hands cupped my boobs before slowly trailing up and down the sides of my body.

Panting heavily, I broke the kiss to sit up straighter to remove my suit jacket, and Eric took the time to do the same. But he insisted on being the one to remove my chemise underneath, and then my skirt, and then my panties, but to be fair, I insisted on removing all his clothes. Which I swiftly did, not even fumbling with his belt or fly.

"Think of how often we'll be able to do this," Eric murmured, kissing and licking his way down my stomach, taking a detour to swirl his tongue in and around my belly button before continuing south to his destination. When he arrived, I was more than ready for him. My legs were as sticky and flimsy as honey, melting in anticipation as his hands trailed up my thighs and his mouth trickled down to in between them. When the two met there, I arched my back and closed my eyes, biting my lip as I experienced his first touch. I greedily bucked my hips to ask for more, and he acquiesced, his movements faster and stronger.

I was experiencing a sensory overload that came to a finish when he licked the inside of my thigh and bit down, prying my blood and my orgasm from me at the same time.

"I had forgotten how good that is," I managed to say once I opened my eyes. By this time Eric was lying next to me, his chin in the palm of his hand as he watched me.

"Me too," he admitted.

"Let's remember some more?" I asked, rolling over to face him.

"Is that what humans are calling it these days?" he joked, smiling.

"You can call it whatever you want," I replied as I moved on top of him.

"I think I'll call this heaven."

That sounded good enough for me, I thought, as our hips started moving together in that rhythm we were starting to remember together. Eric sat up a little to kiss me as we made love together, and our tongues greedily connected like the lower halves of our bodies. Eric's movements became quicker and harder as he neared his release, and when he started to tremble I bit down on his neck, drawing blood.

Almost immediately he cried out, riding his orgasm to the fullest, and I continued sucking until I too reached orgasm and threw my head back in ecstasy. When I finished Eric licked his blood off of my lips in such a sexual way that, despite what we had finished mere seconds ago, I already felt myself getting turned on. Eric felt it too.

"Let's make up for lost time, shall we?" he murmured huskily before going in for a passionate kiss.

"We shall," I said dizzily when I came up for air, and that was the last thing I said for a while besides chanting Eric's name and calling on God.

…

Even after we had cleaned up after ourselves and Eric brought his car back to my house, we were still in bed. I had a silky night gown on and Eric was in his boxers as we laid facing each other under the sheets on my bed.

"So you want to be a vampire," he said, making his fingers walk up and down my arm.

I was wondering when we would have The Talk.

"Yeah, I do," I said.

He smiled at my response, and it was just as big and full of happiness as it had been the first time I told him I wanted to be a vampire.

"You'll have to watch Jason and Sam get older and die," he told me after a deliberate moment, his smile now away on vacation.

"I know. It'll be hard, but I'd have to watch them get older and die anyways. Only difference is I won't be aging," I replied.

"What about children? Didn't you want them?" Eric asked.

I bit my lip. This was the question I'd been asking myself over and over again. Didn't I want children?

"I used to, you know. But what if I passed down my telepathy and they got it too, and didn't want it any more than I wanted mine? Or, worse, what if they didn't get my telepathy and I had to read my kid's minds all the time, with or without them knowing it? And I never allowed myself to think who would be the hypothetical father to my hypothetical kids, because I would have to read his mind too. You know that's the reason why I was a virgin for so long."

He nodded his head, but didn't reply. Eric must have sensed there was more I wanted to say, and he was right.

"But as much I wanted kids, I want you more. I want to be with you more. And even if we did have kids through a donor or adoption or whatever, then they'd have a mother who could read their minds and a father they'd only be able to see for a few hours a day, and that's not why you bring children into the world," I continued.

Eric gazed at me, his brow furrowed.

"Plus, wouldn't I technically be Pam's mother?" I joked, and his worry kneaded itself out as he howled with laughter.

After he quieted down, Eric said, "Sookie, it might be a while before I can turn you, too. If I even can."

"What do you mean?"

"I do not know of any telepaths-turned-vampires," he said, "so it's unknown whether or not your trait would accompany you into your next life."

"Eric, you have to realize that you're just strengthening my case to be a vampire when you tell me there's a chance I might not be telepathic once I'm turned," I said honestly.

"I know that. But what I don't know is how Sophie-Anne would take it if you were ever turned, no matter how near or far that is."

My face fell, and he saw it immediately. "But listen, Sookie. This is what I thought about when I got the car. I'm planning on making your partnership with Sophie-Anne be on a term—four years of work, and then you can settle for another contract or not, if that's what you wish. Let's wait until then to see. If we do it now or in the very near future, it'd only piss Sophie-Anne off. "

Four years. That'd be enough time to prepare myself to be turned, to watch my friends get older. And because I'm still human, after all, that'd be enough time to get myself down to my perfect weight.

"Okay," I said.

Four years would be more than enough time to do all the telepathic reading Sophie-Anne would want me to do, right? Besides, I could do it her way for that amount of time, and then we'd do it my way.

And if the telepathy disappeared, great. And if it didn't, fine, I could live with it. After all, I already had. Hey, maybe my newly acquired vampire senses would make me better at putting up shields and blocking people's thoughts.

"Okay, then," he said.

...

**A/N: So just Chapter 59, and then Dead To Your World; if you don't already have me on author or story alert, I promise you I will be giving you reason to this summer! **


	59. Chapter 59

**A/N: IT'S HERE! **

**Quickly, I'd like to thank all you readers, both the ones who have been with me from the start and the readers who started reading this story during its unofficial hiatus. This was my second attempt at a multi-chapter story and it grew out of a silly little idea I had while reading **_**Dead To The World**_**—I never knew that it would be part of my life for the 19 or so months it took to complete it, and I never knew it would be capable of impacting other people's lives, especially including mine. Thank you for accompanying me on this long, strange, bumpy ride. It took some time, but we're finally here!**

**Thank you to chiisai-kitty, who has read and edited every chapter of this story (in addition to almost everything I've ever posted). She's talked me through my uncertainty, corrected grammar mistakes I've made over and over again without being mean about it (by the way, "lay" and "lie," I hate you guys), and she has this amazing ability to respond to emails with story edits almost instantaneously. You didn't know what you were getting into when you agreed to be my beta, so thank you for taking a chance on me and my 59 chapters. **

**And thank you to Charlaine Harris, without whom none of this would have been possible. She created characters and plot lines that transcended their original content and purposes, and that's amazing. **

**For the last time … on with the show! **

…

Eric was cooking me pasta in my kitchen when I woke up the next day after sunset. I was surprised he had woken up before me, since it was usually the other way around, but I guess all of the events from last night had tired me out.

"Look at you!" I exclaimed as I entered the kitchen.

Eric was standing by the stove watching the noodles cook, and he looked over his shoulder and smiled at me. "It'll be ready in a few minutes, I think."

I walked over to where he was and gave him a hug from behind, my arms going around my waist as I stood on tiptoe to rest my chin on his shoulder. His hair was damp from his shower and he was wearing a fresh pair of blue cotton boxers and a white undershirt. His ass looked fantastic. I kissed his cheek, and he turned his head so I could reach his lips.

"Thank you for dinner," I said when the kiss ended so Eric could check the noodles. He was so cute, making sure everything was okay.

"You think this is for you?" he deadpanned.

I laughed. "Very funny. What can I help you with?"

"For the tomato sauce, do you heat it up or do you eat it cold?" he asked, pointing to the jar on the counter.

"Hot. Here, I'll put it in the microwave—want a True Blood, while I'm over there?"

"Sure."

Once I had set the table and everything was ready, Eric set my bowl of hot marinara and pasta in front of me with a grand flourish. "Your dinner is served, madam," he said goofily, kissing the top of my head before taking the seat across from me where I had set his True Blood.

His eyes were on me as I took my first bite, waiting for my approval.

"Wow, Eric! This is really good!" I said, waiting until I swallowed to smile at him.

Sure, it was just pasta, which was generally pretty easy to make but it was even better now that he had cooked it for me, without even asking.

Noticeably relieved, he smiled demurely and took a sip of his True Blood. "I wasn't sure if you'd get another chance to eat tonight, since we have to leave by seven."

I frowned. That only gave me an hour to shower and do my hair and makeup.

Of course Eric noticed, and pushed calmness through the bond. "You'll have enough time. I was going to wake you after the noodles were finished. And I figured if you had the minimum amount of time to get ready, you wouldn't psych yourself out about the queen."

I reached over and rested my hand over his. "You know me so well." Not wanting to let go of the other's hand, we both ended up eating our dinner one-handed. I don't think either of us minded.

I insisted on doing dishes—since Eric had made a dinner he couldn't eat, he shouldn't have to clean up after it as well—while Eric changed into his suit and got his laptop and some paperwork from the car to do while I got ready.

It was totally unfair that he could get ready in like five minutes and look perfect, whereas I had to take so much longer than that because of makeup and hair and outfit try-ons.

But I was finally able to do it all. I was wearing a black suit-skirt combo (which felt a little strange to me since I had bought it on the queen's credit and now I would be modeling it for the first time I saw her) because I wanted to be taken professionally. That's also why I was wearing sturdy black pumps, pearl earrings, and a hair in a ballerina bun. I even considered wearing panty hose to complete the look, but in the end I figured my legs were tan enough.

"How do I look?" I asked, walking down the stairs to where Eric was seated in the dining room.

Eric picked his head up from the paperwork he was filling out and gave me a long head-to-toe scan that left me blushing. The fact that he said, "Like the kind of girl who should never have to ask that question," with his eyes burning into my skin made me blush even more.

"You clean up well too, you know. Fit for a queen," I said. He really did. Sometimes I wondered how I got so lucky.

"Thanks. Are you ready?"

"I just have to get my purse, and then we can go."

Eric started cleaning up after himself, and once I found my purse we were good.

"Do you think I'll be able to see Hadley?" I asked once Eric was out of the driveway.

Sometimes I forgot Hadley was alive and in New Orleans, because I'd been so used to thinking of her as dead to the world. I was anxious to see her and make sure she was okay, but on the other hand I was a little peeved she kind of sold me out like she did. Sure, she didn't know any better and probably didn't know how the queen did her business, but still.

"Probably. If not, I'm sure we could ask," Eric said very encouragingly.

Suddenly, he veered off the road to the side of the dirt path, the one we had first met on.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

Eric just looked at me for a second and then took a deep breath. For what, I had no idea.

"I've been thinking about this for some time now, Sookie, but I was having problems deciding when to bring it up, or where. And I've decided to do it now, in the spot where we first met."

Confused, I watched him take his hand off the steering wheel and into the breast pocket of his suit.

Eric pulled out a small knife and held it out to me. I stared at it. _Um, what? _

He passionately said, "I know, it's not a ring yet, because this is how you are married in the supernatural world and so far that's the only community that would recognize our marriage, Sookie, but will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

In that moment he looked so young, so eager. So beautiful. So mine.

"Yes, yes, of course!" I said, tears gathering in my eyes. "Eric Northman, I would marry you even if you gave me some sacred dead koala bear of matrimony instead of a ring."

He laughed, and I did too. While the tears in my eyes were clear and salty and the tears in his eyes were red and bloody, they both belied the true happiness, not sorrow, that we were feeling in that moment.

Eric lifted my chin and brushed my tears away with his finger. "You've said before that you're not sure what to call me or our relationship, but now you can call me your husband, because we will be a married couple."

He waited a moment to let his statement sink in before adding, "Think about it, Sookie: every marriage that doesn't end in divorce ends in death. Ours doesn't have to end in either."

"No, it doesn't." I smiled at him, so much it hurt, but I didn't care at all.

"I love you," he said, placing the knife in his cup holder so he could bring my face closer to his.

"I love you too," I replied before kissing him. The only man I'd be kissing for the rest of my life. Lifes?

We were interrupted by the sound of Eric's phone ringing.

"It's Pam," he said, drawing back. "Ever the cockblock."

I laughed appreciatively. Pam did have that going for her.

"Yes?" he said, answering the phone. He chuckled at something Pam said before replying, "Hold on, I'll put you on speakerphone."

"I knew something was up; I'd never felt him so happy before. Well, sometime late last night could have given it a run for its money, but never like this. I was in the middle of scolding Ginger and all of a sudden I started giggling. It's making me look bad, so just stop," I heard Pam drawl in the next moment.

I looked at Eric. We usually kept our sides of the bonds closed other out of courtesy, except for moments where we needed it, but I guess he didn't have that option with Pam? So that meant last night, when he felt so happy, must have been when I told him I wanted him to turn me in the near future. He nodded, seemingly knowing what I was thinking, and smiled softly. I grinned back at him.

"Thanks so much, step-daughter," I sniggered, Eric joining in too.

Pam was not amused. "Eric!" she whined. _Daaaaaad!_

"Come on, Pam, if you had just congratulated us like a normal person she wouldn't have had to pull that out on you," he chided.

She huffed. "All right. Congratulations, Sookie and Eric. I will be sure to decorate Fangtasia when you come in for your reception."

I looked at Eric. "Our reception? Why not our actual wedding?"

Eric's eyes widened. "Pam, I'll call you when we're leaving New Orleans. Good night," he said, and hung up the phone.

He looked a little sheepish, and that scared me. "I was going to explain … to get officially married, one part of the couple must present this sacred ceremonial knife to the other part in front of an important member of the vampire hierarchy. I am licensed to marry vampires and officiate ceremonies, but if I were to license or officiate my own I need a member of the vampire hierarchy to witness it. I was thinking that that tonight you could officially give me this knife in front of Sophie-Anne, to further show how bonded we are."

I stared at him. "Is this why you're proposing to me, tonight?"

He stared back at me. "I have been thinking about the best way to do this for a while now, and thought this was my best chance for you to say yes. But I must say, I felt I could do it now since you were the one to bring up turning you last night. After you fell asleep I went to my house in Shreveport and got the knife out of storage to bring it back with me and propose to you."

I slowly nodded in response. He did have a point. And if marrying him gave me extra protection against the queen and any other vampire, then so be it. If I could marry him in the human community we'd need a witness; it just so happened that my witness would be the queen.

He smiled hesitantly, obviously wondering if I was going to blow up at him.

"Does this mean I have to change into my spare wedding dress?" I joked finally.

Relieved, Eric laughed a little. "No. You're perfect how you are now. But we will have to exchange blood using the knife, in front of the queen. I've brought a goblet that we can let our blood drip into, and then we'll both drink from it."

Well, that was better than exchanging blood during sex in front of a crowd.

"Sure."

Crisis averted, we smiled at each other. Eric started the car again and drove at his _Fast and Furious_ speed of choice, his hand holding mine the whole ride to New Orleans.

I wish I could say that we were at the queen's palace in no time, but we really weren't. Eric said it'd only take half as long if we flew, but it was raining tonight so that was out of the question. Of course I didn't mind the extra time spent with Eric, but I hardly made a good road trip buddy because I was quiet and looked out the window, too nervous to carry on good conversation.

Eric didn't seem to mind. I knew he preferred being silent than talking to most people, so he let me have my space.

He did give me a kind of Sophie-Anne 101 course once the signs announcing exits for New Orleans became more and more frequent.

Apparently she was turned when she was just a teenage girl, and she was much younger than Eric. She had turned three people that accompanied her anywhere she went: Andre, her kind of second-in-command, and Sigebert and Wybert, two Saxon twins who acted as her bodyguards. Eric seemed more respectful to the twins than Andre; he called Andre sneaky and untrustworthy, whereas he mostly just talked about the twin's extraordinary fighting capabilities. When I asked if Andre was all brains and the twins were all brawn, he agreed with me instantly.

The talks stopped once we entered the city. I was getting too distracted by the sights.

New Orleans is like no other place in America, both before the vampire influx and after it. A lot of people in Louisiana had started calling it the "Southern city that never sleeps," and now I could see why—it was late on a Sunday night but you'd never know based on the amount of people on the streets and the amount of light radiating from open shops and bars and restaurants.

Though the general public didn't know Sophie-Anne Leclerq was a queen, they knew she was a very wealthy vampire who owned a hell of a lot of real estate and spent lots of money in the community. Eric said she owned a block of buildings right on the outskirts of the French Quarter, and her palace was nearby. This meant her office building/living quarters were on the tourist list of things to see, especially at night. This block would be a natural target for Fellowship of the Sun bombers. A few vampire-owned businesses in other cities had been attacked, and the queen was not about to lose her life-after-death in such a way.

Plus, the queen had her own vampire SWAT team. Though vampires were simply lethal all on their own, since she had found that humans paid more attention if they found the silhouettes recognizable. Not only were the guards heavily armed, but they wore black bulletproof armor over black uniforms and had gotten special permits to carry arms in the city limits. It was lethal-killer chic. Actually, they were kind of like the New Orleans version of the Swiss Guards at the Vatican, although the Pope probably wouldn't agree with me.

We passed group after group of tourists and their tour guides, some coming from buses parked a block away that advertised special New Orleans vampire tours. I rolled my eyes; at least I hadn't seen a single Dracula anywhere. People were treating this like Vampire Disneyland, and once Eric pulled up to the entrance of the queen's compound I instantly understood why.

From what I could see on the street, the queen's palace was massive. It looked like the type of stone castles from fairy tales, with high towers for Rapunzel (or, in the queen's case, her own snipers, which was what Eric told me when I said the Rapunzel thing). It truly was a palace fit for a queen.

Once Eric got us cleared from security he started driving up the long driveway, which was ornately decorated with beautiful trees and shrubbery. There were fountains and gazebos everywhere; the landscaping was very pleasing to the eye. The only thing this fancy castle was missing was a moat with alligators in it.

We were stopped another two times for security, but finally Eric pulled up to the parking garage attached to this castle, the only sign that this castle was built during the 20th century and not, say, the Middle Ages.

Eric put the marriage knife in a small velour drawstring bag that he had left on the backseat, and then he handed me the bag. "Put this in your purse, and bring it out when I tell you to," he instructed me.

I glanced over at him before reaching out and taking it. Yeah, sure, give the wanted girl a knife to bring into the most fortified compound in the country, including the White House. But I trusted Eric; maybe they wouldn't search my bag if I was coming in with him.

He then gave his keys to the vampire valet and exited the car, speeding around the front to help me out.

Security guards directed us to an elevator to take to the lobby of the queen's official quarters, and we went in, holding hands. I felt like I was walking in a museum; everything here was so fancy-smanchy and expensive-looking, with painting after painting on the wall and a big mural painted to look like sky on the ceiling. I expected more humans—fangbangers, to be honest—but maybe the queen's official quarters were too fancy for them. The few humans here were either in uniform—maids and butlers walking down the hall—or in evening attire.

There was a front desk, strangely enough, and that's where we went. The vampire standing there—a Middle Eastern man with oddly friendly features for a vampire—recognized Eric and greeted him accordingly, calling him Sheriff Northman. I was surprised when I got a greeting of my own: "Telepath Sookie Stackhouse."

I smiled and said how-de-do. I wasn't really sure what the protocol was here.

"Rasul," Eric said, nodding his head.

"The queen is expecting you two. Please, follow me. And if I may, Miss Stackhouse, you look lovely this evening," he said cordially, coming out from behind the desk.

He motioned for another vampire—an middle-aged woman with black hair—to take his spot, and then he started walking with us. Like most of the male vampires here, he was wearing a plain black suit; the women were in black dresses.

"Thank you, Rasul," I replied as we followed him down the hallway. There were lots of doors on either side, and each one had its own vampire security guard. The set of double doors that Rasul led us to, at the very end of the hallway, had two.

These must have been Siegebert and Wybert; they looked identical. They also looked massive and out of place in the clean, pristine room. They were as tall as Eric but twice his width, and they looked like prime meat for the pro wrestling circuit. One had a huge scar across his face, acquired before death, of course. The other had had some skin disease in his original life. They weren't just display items—they were absolutely lethal.

"Bert, Bert, you remember Sheriff Northman," Rasul explained, nodding his head at each one. "This is the telepath, Sookie Stackhouse. Sookie, this is Siegebert and his brother Wybert."

They grunted and nodded at me and Eric. Eric nodded back too, but I smiled and said hello.

"They are here to meet with the queen," Rasul said to the Berts. They didn't acknowledge it, but Rasul didn't seem to care.

He turned back to me and Eric. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my work here is done," he said with a polite smile, and then he started walking back down the hallway.

Eric and I looked at each other, and then at the Berts.

"The queen is… busy," Wybert said suddenly. His voice was heavily accented, but with what, I couldn't tell. "When she wants you in her room, the light, it will shine." He indicated a round light set in the wall to the right of the door that I hadn't noticed.

"Thank you, Wybert," Eric replied. "That's an impressive sword you've got there; is it the molten one you were telling me about last time I was here?"

Trust Eric to start making small talk about weaponry with big vampire soldiers.

Wybert said it was, and then he and his brother started talking very enthusiastically to Eric about all of their weaponry. Their English was stunted, even though they'd had more than enough time to learn it, but once Eric started in some language they switched over, and conversation moved much more quickly.

As for me? I just stared at the light and wished it'd light up so I could just this over with.

Finally it lit up, and Eric and the Berts stopped talking. The security guards each opened a door, and we walked into a room that was so light I thought for a second we were outside. There was stimulated sunlight coming down from the stimulated sky in the ceiling. Sophie-Anne must have really missed the sun, like all vampires did, probably. The room was small, and through the large row of windows to the side I could see that it was next to some sort of indoor pool and patio area. I could see pretty humans swimming in the pool, dressed in the skimpiest bikinis and Speedos.

In the middle of the room sat a young, beautiful teenage vampire wearing a gorgeous cream silk evening gown with intricate beading. Her red hair was carefully done in some sort of retro curls updo, and her makeup was similarly retro and stunning. She was sitting in a chair at the head of a small rectangular granite table that had some papers and pens on it. On her right side was a blond, young-looking vampire with almost too-pale eyes sitting beside her, equally regal in a black tuxedo that probably cost as much as my cable bill for the whole year.

Hello, Sophie-Anne and Andre.

Eric and I walked up to the chairs in front of them, but the two vampires didn't stand up.

"Sophie-Anne," Eric murmured as he bowed. I did a curtsy, like he had told me to earlier during my Sophie-Anne 101. He should have told me how young she looked; this whole time I had been imagining this frightening matronly vampire who was ready to bite me as soon as look at me.

"Northman," she said, looking Eric up and down.

Then she turned her attention to me. "Sookie Stackhouse. I bet you were a sight to see in any one of the $75 La Perla lingerie sets you bought on my credit … especially the red one," the vampire queen of Louisiana greeted me finally.

Right now I was sure my face was as red as that damned lingerie. That sure was a helluva opening.

As I gazed at Sophie-Anne's perfectly made-up face, I remembered what Eric had said about Bill having the option to change his human accent and mannerisms after outliving them for so long. But in the queen's case, it seemed as though she was stuck in the 1940s and not whatever time period she had actually lived in, if her bright red lipstick was any indication.

"Yes, your majesty," I said simply, trying my best to make my Crazy Sookie smile a little less Crazy.

Sophie-Anne just laughed. It sounded shrill to my ears, and I'm sure it was worse to Eric's, with his vampire hearing.

"Please, sit," she said hospitably, waving her small white hands with perfectly manicured red nails at the seats across from her. Eric sat down first, across from Andre, and I next to him. Sophie-Anne was even more beautiful up close, as was Andre. He'd yet to say anything.

"Sookie, this is my child, Andre," she said.

I smiled at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Andre," I said pleasantly enough.

A corner of his mouth went up as he tipped his head slightly, and then it was back to the stony poker face I was used to. In that moment he looked like a child in his father's work clothes, but I was sure he was much more threatening than that.

"Likewise," he managed to say. But then again, he just nodded at Eric, so maybe he wasn't big on words. Maybe that's how the queen liked her children.

The door that we'd just come from opened then, and a short, balding middle-aged man walked through them. He was wearing a very nice suit, but he just looked different from the vampires; his skin wasn't glowing. When I tried to read his mind, it was like he had his own shields up, because his brain wasn't hazy like a Were or empty like a vampire.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Your Majesty," he said hastily, taking the seat next to Andre. Brave man.

She just looked at him, so Andre just looked at him too.

"I'm Mr. Cataliades, the queen's official lawyer. You must be Sookie Stackhouse," he said, extending a hand to me. Okay, so he definitely wasn't a vampire.

"Hi. Nice to meet you," I said, smiling for real this time.

"Eric, good to see you again," he said after he let go of my hand.

"Yes, and you as well," Eric replied.

It was quiet for a moment after that. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the queen—and Andre—hadn't stopped staring at me this whole time.

"Right, so let me get the paperwork then," Mr. Cataliades said, opening his briefcase.

"Before we do that, Sookie and I have something we want to say," Eric said quickly. Mr. Cataliades stopped what he was doing and gazed at Eric, as did everyone else at the table.

"Sookie," Eric prompted, raising an eyebrow at me. Well, guess this is the part where I gave him the knife and married him.

Too bad a bouquet and veil couldn't fit in the same drawstring pouch as the knife.

I took the bundle out of my purse, handed it to Eric, and then inclined my own head in what I hoped was a ceremonious manner.

With a certain sense of theater, Eric untied the golden cord and silently unfolded the velvet. Sparkling like a jewel on the dark material was the ceremonial knife and a little goblet with rubies on it. Now Eric set the cup upright and lifted the shining blade to his lips, kissing it.

After the queen recognized the knife, her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. She and Eric regarded each other steadily.

"I believe my congratulations are in order, then," Sophie-Anne said finally. She didn't sound upset, but she also didn't sound thrilled. It was just neutral, like her statement. "You two certainly make a beautiful couple."

Mr. Cataliades congratulated us too, seeming more genuine than the queen. Andre, of course, said nothing, but he looked pissed.

Eric cut his wrist and held it over the goblet, squeezing hard. It only took about thirty seconds for the cup to be filled halfway. Then Eric motioned for me to hold out my wrist and he cut it too; it hurt more than his bites, but that's how it was to be done. I tried my best not to cry out in shock when he did it, and I knew once I had sipped from the cup it would be better.

Eric swirled around the goblet before holding it out for me to drink from. I rested my mouth on it and placed my hand on his to tip it back. After two swallows I stopped, and gestured for Eric to drink from it. He drank the rest of the blood, and leaned forward and kissed me as soon as I'd moved the cup away from his mouth.

"I do," he whispered into my mouth.

Oh, how I loved him at that moment. We were doing the supernatural way of exchanging vows—blood, really, but whatever—but he was acquiescing to my standard, traditional human way too. That was so thoughtful of him.

"I do," I replied, kissing him afterwards.

When we straightened up and resumed our seating positions, no one said anything. The queen just looked amused, and Mr. Cataliades was smiling. Andre, of course, still looked pissed.

Our bond felt stronger now, more pulsing and alive. I could feel that Eric was happy and pleased, but I wasn't sure if he had opened the bond or if I'd be able to feel him at all times now.

"Obviously, there are certain things in the contracts Mr. Cataliades set up that will need to be fixed, befitting our new relationship. I've taken the liberty of rewriting them, if you'd like to take a look at them," Eric said, very calmly, as he took the papers out of his suit jacket.

I glanced over at him, the sly dog. He knew I would say yes! I mean, I didn't blame him, but still! He'd gotten the paperwork all figured out to boot!

Eric had folded them to fit in the pocket, but when he took them out they didn't have a single crease line. He handed them out to everyone at the table, and they quickly started reading through the papers with their speed-reading supernatural skills.

I still couldn't get over the paper. Was it magic stationary? Maybe you can only use supernatural paper to write supernatural contracts? I'd have to ask once we got home.

With their speed reading, everyone finished their respective packets within a matter of seconds.

"This seems most agreeable, from a legal standpoint," Mr. Cataliades said.

Eric slid over a packet to me too. There was a lot of legal jargon, but I got the gist of what he was saying. I had a rate of $150 an hour—tax free, of course, since there was no way the queen wanted the government to know she had a telepath on staff—for periods of no more than six hours at a time, and no more than twenty hours a week. Trips or any other type of long-term engagements could not last longer than a week, and salary would be decided upon for each engagement and paid beforehand. All of my travel fees would be paid for as well. If I was required to leave the state, additional fees would be added. If I was injured or sustained bodily harm, additional fees would apply, with the option to cut association altogether. And as stated before, the association was to last four years, with the option to create a new contract when this one ended.

But what I really liked that Eric included that any humans revealed to be doing unlawful acts through my work must go through due-process where applicable.

I also liked his stipulations about himself—that he'd be in the room with me at all times, that he would kill anyone who touched his pledged and bonded without fear of consequence from the vampire government or payment to their maker, and that he would go through all of my assignments before informing me of them so no one would be able to contact me without getting by him. He didn't get paid at all, but I knew he wouldn't care about that. If he sustained any injuries, I wouldn't work until he was healthy; if he died, I wouldn't work without him at all.

As I read this, the queen questioned Eric about certain parts of the contract, but I tuned them out, confident Eric would take care of me. Maybe someday I'd be so familiar with the supernatural world I could write my own contracts.

"Let's sign then, shall we?" Mr. Cataliades said, jolting me out of my reading.

I looked over at Eric, and he picked up the pen and signed on the line. He dated it too, and then handed me the pen. I signed where it told me to sign and everything, and then slid it over to Mr. Cataliades. He gave the paper to Sophie-Anne, who signed, and then signed his own name too.

I smugly noticed Andre didn't sign a damn thing.

Mr. Cataliades took the paper once everyone was finished and put it in his briefcase. "I'll go submit this now," he said out loud.

That was it. That was really it. Eric and I shared a smile. We did it! It felt strangely anti-climactic, but that was a good thing.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Mr. Cataliades said, excusing himself from the room. "Sookie, it was nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you, as I do with you, Eric. Well, until next time."

"Goodbye," I said, and Eric said the same. Sophie-Anne and Andre were silent.

"Andre, I believe now is the time for you to do me that errand," Sophie-Anne said suddenly, turning to look at him. He got up and left the room without saying a word. That and the vagueness of the statement made Eric tense a little.

The queen then gazed at me. "Welcome to my retinue, Sookie. I really am glad that you're here. True, it's not the way I originally envisioned it, but the end result is almost the same. You've picked a very persuasive husband," she said, smiling at the end.

"Don't I know it, your majesty," I said, smiling at her. I didn't know if that was formal enough for a queen—I was American, after all. But she didn't seem to mind.

"I want you to know, I'm not as evil as you probably think I am. I'm fair when it's right to be. I hope you'll see that through working for and with me, and in time I want our relationship to strengthen into something resembling partnership," she replied.

"I look forward to working with you as well," I said. But I didn't say it meanly or anything; she was right, she wasn't the big bad vampire I had originally envisioned. That didn't mean she couldn't be a sheep in Rita Hayworth's clothing.

She cleared her throat. "In terms of business, I'd first like for you to read my human staff and also the fangbangers. Safety precautions, you see. I'll organize the when and where later, but I think it'll be good to start you out slow and give you some time to adjust."

"Thank you," I replied.

"I won't have you sneaking into Fellowship churches for sure, and you can trust me on that. Although perhaps that's why Dallas was so eager to have you." She looked at Eric when she said that, and he just smiled politely at her.

I saw a girl wearing a short red cocktail dress and matching stilettos approaching the glass window—or glass door, rather—on the side of the room, and I watched her walk up to it. She was curvy and blonde and … oh my goodness, she was Hadley!

She opened the door, and smiled when all three faces stared at her.

"Come in, Hadley. Sookie's here," the queen greeted her.

"It's so good to see you, Sookie," she said, walking over to me. She had caressed the queen's shoulder as she passed her, and I stood up from my chair and met her halfway to envelop her into a hug.

"You too," I mumbled into her shoulder. She'd filled out since I'd last seen her, but maybe that's because she was taking a different type of drug now, one that improved your body instead of destroying it. She looked really good with the blood, but her face and her smile looked happy, and that was something that came from within.

I pulled back but kept my arms around her shoulders so I could get a better look at her. She didn't look like any of the slutty fangbangers that came into Fangtasia; her makeup was neutral and her hair was brushed and shiny. Hadley was staring at me just as eagerly, taking me in.

"I don't think you've seen my day room since its remodeling, Northman. Come, let me show you the courtyard," the queen said, rising out of her chair.

She winked at me before turning towards the door. Eric looked at me for a second and nodded before zooming out of his chair and opening the door for his queen. He closed the door behind him afterwards, and I could see him following Sophie-Anne as she gestured to various places in the day room.

"That was surprisingly nice of her," I said, nodding my heads towards the door. I never would have guessed she'd give me and Hadley some alone time to catch up. That earned her big brownie points in my book. Sure, there were probably was a camera in each corner of the room and at least two vampires with perfect hearing outside, but I appreciated it all the same.

"She really isn't all that bad, for a vampire. There are worse ones in the palace," Hadley said, looking at her receding figure.

"All right, so let's catch up. How did you meet her?" I asked, pulling her into Eric's seat and sitting beside her.

She told me about how before the Great Reveal she was at a club—one that was owned by one of the Sophie-Anne's associates, though she didn't say which one—and met Sophie-Anne there. They spent the night together, and then the next night, and then the next night. Sophie-Anne revealed she was a vampire a couple months before the Great Reveal and invited Hadley to live at her palace as her companion. Since she was staying in a shitty apartment in a bad part of town, Hadley agreed, and she'd been there ever since.

"If everything was so great, why did you feel like you had to boast about your psychic cousin to the queen?" I asked after a moment.

Hadley shook her head. "I was jealous. At the beginning of our relationship I was monogamous, but Sophie-Anne wasn't, in terms of blood and sex. I wanted her to pay more attention to me. But I didn't think she'd actually follow up on you or send a vampire after you or nothing! Sookie, I swear! I'm so sorry."

She'd started crying a little, and I reached over and covered her hand with mine. "Hadley, listen to me. Hadley! I forgive you. You didn't know any better, sweetie, and it wasn't your fault. And to be honest, you kind of pitted me and Eric together against the queen and Bill Compton, and that made our relationship so much stronger. And it all worked out in the end, didn't it? Now I can see you more often, after not seeing you for so long."

Hadley picked her head up to look at me, wiping mascara from her eyes. "You really mean that, Sookie? You forgive me for what I've done?"

I smiled softly. "Yes, I do."

"Oh Sookie!" she cried, and leaned over for a hug. She stopped crying after a while, but she never let go.

When she finally did, it was my turn to talk about what had been going on in my life. Hadley cried again when she heard Gran had died, but laughed when I told her about Jason's various exploits. She congratulated me more than once on Eric, saying he was a "hottie" and used to always treat the donors fairly—which I cringed internally at upon hearing, but not when I heard that this past month he'd refused fangbangers during his visit—and, most of all, that I was lucky to have him.

"I really am," I repeated, and when I looked out the glass door I saw Eric and Sophie-Anne walking back towards the room, Eric towering over the tiny queen.

When I pointed this out to Hadley, she quickly asked me if her face was clean, and by the time I wiped some mascara boogies away and proclaimed her face to be okay, our vampires were approaching the door.

Hadley stood up when the queen entered the room, so I did too. I figured she knew more about how to act around vampire royalty than I did.

"I see you two have caught up a little," Sophie-Anne said, walking through the door that Eric had opened for her.

"Yes, Sophie-Anne," Hadley replied. I just smiled warmly at the queen.

She looked directly at me when she said, "That's lovely. Hadley lives here with me, Sookie, so anytime you visit the palace you are more than welcome to spend time with her, both day and night."

Was she offering Hadley as some sort of a bribe?

"I look forward to seeing a lot more of both of you in the near future," I replied as diplomatically as I could.

"And I as well. Unfortunately, your majesty, it is late and Sookie and I must be back in Area 5 before dawn," Eric said.

"Shame. And I was prepared to offer you my finest suite—it has its own panoramic faux beach view, you know. Perhaps next time you will be able to see it," she said.

"Perhaps. Goodbye, your majesty, Hadley," Eric said, walking over to me.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, your majesty," I said to her, and the queen just nodded her head. I gave Hadley one last hug, and with that Eric and I left the room.

Aware of the vampires and security, Eric and I didn't say anything until we were driving away from the palace. And once we were down the street, my mouth was off and running about Hadley and what she'd been up to and how happy she seemed with Sophie-Anne and how excited I was to see her on a somewhat regular basis now. Eric just held my hand and nodded and asked questions at the right times and generally just let me prattle on, which was what I needed.

He always seemed to know what I needed before I even did.

Before we got on the highway we had to stop for gas, and I used the restroom while we were there. When I came back outside, I saw Eric had moved the car away from the pumps to the side of the parking lot and was leaning against the hood with two bottles in his hand. When I got closer to him I saw he was holding a True Blood and a V8.

"I thought a toast might be in order," he said when I stopped next to him, leaning against the car with my hip bumping his.

"And what are we toasting?" I asked, taking my juice.

It didn't escape me that he'd picked the drink that was the closest color to his drink—blood red.

"The end of an era, and the beginning of a new one."

"May we be able to handle the new one as well as we did the last," I added, clinking my bottle with his.

"Better. With no amnesia, preferably."

"But the amnesia brought us together!" I protested.

He shrugged his shoulders as he replied, "Before bringing us apart and then finally together."

"Well, as long as we're nearby I guess we can work through it," I said.

"Oh, I plan on keeping you nearby," he murmured, bumping my hip with his.

"That's funny. I plan on keeping _you_ nearby," I replied, bumping his hip this time.

He looked up at the stars for a moment before looking down at me. "I can't wait for it."

I smiled up at him. "Me neither."

…

**A/N: That's it! It took a little more than 1 and a half years and 59 chapters, but that's it!**

**In terms of business … if, for whatever reason, you're scared you'll have to go through an afalcone10 withdrawal (and I absolutely adore you if you actually are worried about that) it might be a good idea to put me on author alert or keep an eye on the newest stories, since I've been writing a lot. **

**I've started the first chapter of the Eric POV companion piece to this, "Dead To Your World." It's not going to be another epic 50+ chapter story like "Dead To My World," but it will cover the events from this fic as Eric sees them, including certain parts of the story Sookie wasn't there for (like Eric's first night after waking up from the curse or his mysterious visits with the queen). And of course if there is any scene you'd like to read from Eric's POV drop me a PM or review!**

**I've also finished a one-shot I started ages ago to mix things up a bit—it's angsty and is told in the third person POV, both of which are uncharacteristic of me. But I'm pleased with the result, even though it made me cry. The title of the story is "Mine" and you can see it on my author profile. ****It's my angsty one-shot interpretation of Eric always telling Sookie she is his. AH, with Sookie and Eric being two star-crossed college-bound kids. I cried while writing it and reading it (even rereading it and making edits) and my beta cried while going over it. You have been warned, all of you. **

**Lastly, I haven't forgotten about "Behind the Music." I'm almost done with the next chapter of that and I expect it to go up soon. "Score!" will not be worked on because, in all honesty, that story embarrasses me. **


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